I Don't Want To Be Alone
by DistinctVagueness
Summary: After the war that was sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione has changed. She begins to shut out her friends and immerse herself in her studies. Lonely, unhappy and confused, she has no idea that someone else is feeling the exact same way. HG-SS Fic
1. Begin Again

**A/N: **Okay, this is my first SS/HG fic so please review, and be kind! Have a vague idea of where I'm going, so bear with me!

1.Begin Again 

Rain. While most complained and ran for shelter, she always lingered, savouring each droplet as it raced through her hair and slid down her cheeks. It was cleansing, refreshing and allowed her to breathe in a way, which is impossible under the warm rays of the sun. And she needed to breathe. After sixth year, it was one way of relieving the tension and anxiety most had felt.

Hermione withdrew her hand from the window. The edge of her dressing gown was soaking wet and steadily dripping. _"Arefacium,"_ she murmured with a quick wave of her wand. The dripping stopped instantly.

She glanced over at the other beds in the dormitory. Parvati slept peacefully, as did Erica, Callie snored slightly on her back and Lavender uttered something to herself softly before shifting onto her front with a slight smile on her face. Hermione swore she heard the name "Seamus." She grinned slightly before strolling over to her own bed and pulling off her dressing gown to slip underneath the covers.

Staring up into the darkness, she thought about the year that lay ahead of her. It was N.E.W.T year, the final year before she left Hogwarts and ascended into the adult wizarding world. Her future career path was still left unchosen. She only hoped she'd picked the right subjects to gain her the position she desired when the time came.

The time ticked by before Hermione felt her lids begin to droop and fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Severus Snape gazed out of the window in the direction the Forbidden Forest. Raindrops battered the pane ceaselessly. He didn't mind the noise. On the contrary, he preferred it. The sound made him feel less lonely somehow, but in a way he favoured over most human company. It was the silence he most feared. With no distractions, his mind tended to have a permanent focus on the memories that were the darkest, the most daunting. And there was no fleeing from them.

He strode over to the tall, wooden desk in the corner of the room. The cauldron was now shuddering and the burnt-orange coloured potion he had brewed four hours earlier bubbled excitedly within. He bent over the cauldron and inhaled deeply through his nose. He nodded absently to himself. The essence of Murtlap had done the trick. He poured some of the liquid into a large flagon, corked it and set it aside to give to Madam Pomfrey the following morning.

Satisfied that he could no more tonight, Snape cleared up the equipment strewn across the desk's surface. The rain had begun to ease outside and only the occasional droplet tapped against the glass.

He made his way soundlessly across the room towards his bedroom door, only stopping to mutter _"Nox."_ The candle perched on the windowsill snuffed itself out and a small wisp of smoke floated dreamily upwards.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione rushed to the Great Hall and settled herself beside Ron. Harry sat opposite her, and smiled through his mouthful of cornflakes.

"Cutting it a bit short, aren't you?" observed Ron whilst chewing with his mouth open.

Hermione frowned at him. "Overslept." She reached for the toast.

Harry pointed to an envelope on the table. "That came for you. Oh, and there's your Daily Prophet too."

"Thanks," she picked up the envelope and then sighed as she recognised her mother's handwriting. She placed it back on the table.

"What's wrong?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," said Hermione shortly and resumed buttering her slice of toast. Ron opened his mouth again but Harry shot him a warning look. Hermione's tone of voice clearly meant she didn't want to discuss it further.

Breaking the silence, Dean Thomas came over to them. "Here's your timetables for this year."

"Thanks Dean," Harry took the small slips of parchment from his hand and handed Ron and Hermione theirs. Dean continued down the table to where Seamus and Lavender were sitting.

Ron looked at his first and groaned. "Double Divination first this morning. Typical. I think I've run out of ghastly ways to die."

"Just ask Trelawney if you can you borrow a few of her predictions about me. I can't wait to hear what she's cooked up this year." Harry sighed resignedly.

"You should have taken up Muggle Studies, or Arithmancy instead, like I told you. Then you could have learnt something worthwhile. Divination isn't much use unless you're born with Seer blood."

"Hermione, if I need to know anything about Muggles, I can just ask you. That's what you're here for. And who does Arithmancy if they're not forced to?" Ron reasoned.

"Me."

"You see my point."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up. "I need to get my books for Ancient Runes. I'll see you at lunch. Have fun in Divination."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Up at the High Table, Snape watched the Trio as they engaged in breakfast. Much as he had expected, there appeared to be no apparent change in the way they usually interacted. He glowered as normal at the way Weasley and Potter treated Granger. Hermione, although she had somewhat of a reputation of being an insufferable know-it-all, possessed remarkable magical ability, certainly. He had rarely seen such precision, concentration and brilliance in a young witch. There was no doubt that, if she wished, she could have a remarkable future ahead of her. The only thing he could see as a cord dragging her down was her "best friends". When would she learn that shaking them off would be the only way to rise to challenges that were worthy of her? They would never see her talent, her focus, her-

Someone prodded him on the arm. 

"What?" he said, irritably.

Poppy Pomfrey, who had been trying to gain his attention for a while, to no avail, stood at his side, looking offended, but still as haughty as she usually was.

"I simply wished to enquire if you had managed to brew up that Sleeping Draught for me."

"Sleeping Dr-?" His attention was still elsewhere. "Oh, yes. Finished it last night. I'll get a house elf to send it up before my first lesson."

Madam Pomfrey nodded her thanks and continued down the table. Severus picked up his fork to spear the leftovers of his breakfast and lifted it to his mouth. He grimaced as he found the bacon to be stone cold and cursed himself for loosing his concentration. Dropping the fork, he pushed back his chair and left the Great Hall, his robes swishing forebodingly behind him.


	2. Crossing Paths

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews. I was very happy to get them, considering this is my first HG/SS story. I'm aware the first chapter was a little short, so I worked extra hard to make this one longer. Most of this chapter deals with Hermione, but I promise, more Snape soon! J Please R&R, it's much appreciated and it keeps me going! 

**2. Crossing Paths**

Last lesson that day was Charms. As in every other class that day, they were subjected to a lengthy speech on the importance of their N.E.W.T year. Professor Flitwick explained that, although they would be learning several new complex charms, their main focus would be on ensuring that they could all perform previously taught charms adequately, if not perfectly, as well as knowing the theory behind them. (Upon hearing the word 'theory' both Harry and Ron slumped in their seats.)

After class, they headed up to the Gryffindor common room to put away their bags before dinner. Hermione checked on Crookshanks in her dormitory. The ginger, bow-legged cat was curled up on her pillow, pretending to be asleep but was watching out of the corner of his eye, as the girl busied herself in putting away her books and running a brush through her hair.

"You're not too convincing, you know." Hermione came over and sat down on the bed. She scratched behind one of his ears. Crookshanks omitted a loud purr and rolled over.

Hermione reached inside her robes. Out came the letter she had received that morning. She simply looked at it for a moment and then slid a finger under the seal, tearing it open. She pulled out a single sheet of paper.                              __

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thank you for your letter to tell us your journey back to school went smoothly. After the rather unpleasant conversation we shared in the car on the way to the station, I got the impression that you were feeling upset. We don't wish to make you unhappy, dear, but you have to understand we want you to make the most of the options available to you after Hogwarts. Before you became a witch, you excelled at your school and we feel that had you undertaken an education at an ordinary high school, you would have exceeded expectations there also. We just want you to remember that, should you wish to attend a normal university, we would be more than willing to support you and you could pick up on your magical education afterwards if you still wished._

_With love_

_Mum           _

Hermione stared at the letter unbelievably. "I'm sure you are willing to support me, Mum, but what happens if I decide I don't want to return to a "normal" life?"

She looked at Crookshanks and sighed. "Why can't she just accept me as I am?" Her cat stared back at her, unblinkingly and offered a soft 'miaow' as a response.

"I'd better be going down to dinner. See you later." She left Crookshanks, who promptly curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

She was half way out of the portrait hole before a voice met her ears. 

"Miss. Granger."

She turned to see Professor McGonagall sitting by the fire in the deserted common room. She blinked for a second. It was rather odd to see her in the common room, although she was Head of Gryffindor House. She rarely ventured in there, except to give occasional announcements, and even then, she didn't stay long.

"Professor?"

"I wondered if I could perhaps have a few words with you before you join your friends in the Great Hall."

"Yes…of course."

Professor McGonagall gestured for Hermione to take the seat facing her. She sat down expectantly.

"How are you, Miss. Granger?"

"I'm…okay, thanks."

"Settling in as normal, then?"

"Yes. Everything's fine…" said Hermione, puzzled, more at the motherly tone McGonagall had adopted, than the enquiry into her well-being.

For a few moments, there was lull. Professor McGonagall seemed to be studying her in quiet thought.

"Professor..…is there anything else? Only, I should be going down to dinner."

"Of course, Miss. Granger. I just wanted to see how you were…after the events of last year."

"I'm fine," answered Hermione, a little too quickly. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

"After what happened, it's only natural you would-"

"Honestly," broke in Hermione. "I'm fine." Eyes fixed on the floor, she refused to meet Professor McGonagall's intent stare.

"And you still stand by your decision to remain as a Gryffindor prefect, not Head Girl?"

Hermione paused. "I do. There's enough for me to be thinking about this year. Besides, Hannah Abbott deserved it anyway."

"Very well. You may go now, Miss. Granger." Professor McGonagall nodded to her to leave.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

When Hermione reached the Gryffindor table, dinner was already in full swing and most plates were half empty. She served herself a few potatoes and some chicken salad.

"Where were you?" asked Harry. "Parvati and Erica said you were just in the dormitory, putting your stuff away, but that was ages ago."

"Oh, Professor McGonagall just wanted to have a few words with me, that's all."

"What about?" asked Ron. "Is she irritated that Sprout managed to get both the Head Girl and Head Boy in her house this year?"

"No, she just wanted to see if I…" Wondering whether to tell them about her Head of House's concern for her, she looked up at them. Ron seemed to be paying little, if any, attention to what she was saying and Harry, who often was the more observant of the two, was reaching across the table for a slice of bread and looking over her shoulder towards the Ravenclaw table.

"…If I was happy with the extra work I've decided to do this year," she finished weakly.

After a few minutes of eating and pushing the potatoes absently around her plate, while her best friends rambled on about how to effectively use the Sloth Grip Roll tactic in their next Quidditch match, Hermione stood up. 

"I'll see you later in the common room."

"Aren't you having any dessert?" Harry asked her, looking somewhat concerned, which mollified Hermione's feelings of being ignored slightly.

"I'm not really that hungry. Besides, I've got homework to do and I need to go to the-"

"-library," finished Harry and Ron, who rolled his eyes good-humouredly at her.

"We'll see you after, then." Ron smiled at her and then returned to his plate where the remnants of a potato skin had just disappeared, replaced with a slice of apple pie.

Hermione walked quickly along the length of the table, smiling at Ginny Weasley who grinned back at her as she went. Before leaving through the door that led to the entrance of the castle, she turned. Harry and Ron had obviously forgotten about her quick departure, illustrated by the fact that Harry was now demonstrating the Sloth Grip Roll with a fork and a potato. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later, she arrived at the library. Bypassing the empty seats at tables occupied by whispering students, she settled her parchment, Ancient Runes textbook and quill at a small, solitary desk in the corner. A candle burned brightly above the desk, as it was thrown into shadow by the tall bookcases nearby. Then she crossed over to the main desk, where Madam Pince was sitting, watching the students in her library over the rim of her thin spectacles suspiciously.

"Madam Pince?"

"Yes?"

"I have a note here from Professor McGonagall." Reaching inside her robes, she pulled out a slip of parchment covered with McGonagall's neat cursive writing.

"Indeed. Well, hand it here then." Madam Pince pushed up her spectacles and skimmed the note, reading parts of it out loud. "…Please allow...Restricted Section…can be trusted…entire year?!" Hermione thought fleetingly, that if Madam Pince's eyebrows had risen any further, they might well have dropped off.

"I understand you may need extra resources for certain subjects, Miss. Granger, but being allowed to access the Restricted Section for an entire year? There is a reason it's restricted, you know."

"I know I'm asking a lot, Madam Pince, but I'm taking on further work and projects in addition to my N.E.W.T work and I promise you I'll just take the books I need."'

Madam Pince exhaled loudly through her nose. "Very well. But I will be checking on the authenticity of this note."

"Thanks, Madam Pince."

Hermione made her way over to the Restricted Section, with the curious glances of a group of third year Hufflepuffs following her. For a few moments, she simply gazed around at the veritable mound of books available to her now. She was half-tempted to look at the most potent volumes sitting on the highest shelves, but she let the feeling pass. Professor McGonagall had given her this privilege because she trusted her to only read the books that were required, not to do a little light reading on the history of the dark arts or discover the ingredients for immensely dangerous and illegal potions.

She walked along one bookshelf until she came upon a book containing details on the use of Ancient Runes in conjunction with Arithmancy. Satisfied, she left the Restricted Section and started her work.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Two hours later, her arms itching to stretch and her right hand aching from holding her quill so long, Hermione yawned and closed the heavy book propped up in front of her. Madam Pince's head jerked up from the book she had been reading at her desk at the slamming noise. She glared disapprovingly at Hermione, who offered an apologetic expression and suddenly began coughing at the decade's worth of dust that had risen from the book's ancient pages. 

She placed the book back on the shelf, gathered up her parchment and her textbook and left the deserted library, walking quickly, as to not be so late that she was breaking the rules.

At the portrait hole, Hermione was about to open her mouth to tell the Fat Lady the password when she remembered she'd left her quill in the library. 

'Damn' she thought. Madam Pince was notorious for holding back lost quills and pieces of homework while she practiced her favourite pastime of chastising the careless pupil who had crossed her. It was her favourite quill too.

Unwilling to endure asking Madam Pince for her quill back, Hermione decided to chance it. It wasn't _that _late and as long as Peeves didn't catch her, she had the art of avoiding prowling teachers down pretty well, courtesy of being best friends with Ron and Harry.

Hermione walked as quietly and as quickly as she could to the library. Cautiously, she approached the door. As she had expected, it was locked. Peering carefully around first, she bent down and pulled her wand from her robes. "Alohomora," she whispered. The lock clicked and the door creaked open. Wincing at the small noise, Hermione slipped inside.

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

In his long, black robes, Severus Snape, lurking just a few corridors away, looked more like a huge, dark shadow than a person. But that's how he liked it. Any unsuspecting student, creeping around the school after hours surely did not try it again after being confronted with the terror of meeting the Potions Master in the night.

Tonight, though, it looked like this had backfired on him since there were barely any troublemakers to be found. All he had managed to do was frighten a cluster of first years trying to find their way back to their common room after being ambushed by Peeves. He was restless but knew, if he returned to his chambers, his mind would begin to dwell in less pleasant areas.

Shaking his head slightly, to regain his concentration, he heard a noise. A noise that sounded almost…like a door closing. Fighting the impulse to smirk, Severus hurried his pace down the corridor that led to the library. 

Coming towards him was a figure with long chestnut brown hair. Upon seeing him, the figure froze and backed away. When it recognised him, he heard a gasp, which he took to be of dismay. Smiling grimly, he began his admonishment.

Clutching her quill in her left hand, Hermione, shut the door softly behind her and locked it. She started up the corridor again, on her way to Gryffindor Tower but froze when she saw the approaching shadow, heading, unmistakeably in her direction. She shrunk against the wall. The shadow continued coming at her. 

Then, she recognised what, or rather who it was, and let out a gasp of relief. Next, she almost laughed. Who had ever been relieved to see Professor Snape, especially when they were engaged in rule breaking?

"Miss. Granger. On an after-hours stroll around the castle are we?"

"No, I-I was just..…" Inwardly, Hermione cursed herself. Why must she blush and stutter over her words so with this teacher, but speak so clearly and easily to any other?

"I see. And I believe you were first choice for Head Girl too. What a mistake that would have been."

Hermione attempted to open her mouth to defend herself but no words came pouring out.

"Detention, I think would be suitable."

"But Professor-"

"And five points from Gryffindor for interrupting me."

Hermione stared at him with a mix of emotions. Anger was the most prominent but she didn't dare to open her mouth again. Detention and having house points docked was enough for one night.

"My office, Miss. Granger. Tomorrow night at eight. Now please return to Gryffindor before I have the urge to give you another night in detention." With that, he turned and walked away from her, blending in with the dark corridor as he went, leaving Hermione alone, to seethe at his unfairness.


	3. Memories

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who R&R'd my last chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed it and I've updated as soon as it was possible. Please R&R again if you like this new chapter, it's much appreciated! Thanks go to my new beta Angel, who has been a great sounding board and helped me to further my ideas, as well as checking this over for me.****

**3.Memories**

The next afternoon, they were in the first Care of Magical Creatures class of the year and Hermione was dreading the evening that was drawing ever near. She had heard tales of some of the more horrible punishments Snape had concocted in the past for students in detention; Ron having to clear the chamber pots in the hospital wing by hand had just been one of them.

"Now then," Hagrid's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I see yer've all finished feedin' your nettles ter yer Glumbumbles. I thought we could see how they can help as an antidote ter Alihotsy leaves. Any volunteers?" 

No hands rose and the students regarded Hagrid warily, nursing their badly stung, swelling fingers. Although the nettles had done their fair share of prickling them, it appeared that Hagrid's method of catching them, the Glumbumbles did not appreciate being grabbed out of the air without warning.

Hermione wondered vaguely why she was still taking this subject. She didn't know what exactly she planned to do in the future, but she was pretty sure it wouldn't involve creatures or beasts of any sort. Then she remembered the accusing glares she had received from her two best friends after she had asked them if they thought she should drop the course. There was also the fact that she didn't want to hurt Hagrid's feelings.

"Nobody? Neville? How about you givin' us a demonstration?" Neville stared at Hagrid, in obvious dismay. If there was anything seven years at Hogwarts had taught him, it was that he wasn't exactly the best performer in most classes, with the exception of Herbology, never mind in front of an audience.

"Come on, now. Nothin' ter be afraid of." Neville looked as though he very much doubted the last statement, but he tentatively made his way over to the front of the class where Hagrid stood, holding a tiny vial of grey liquid. "Now, these," he pointed to a batch of seemingly harmless purple and red leaves growing in a nearby pot, "yer'll seen in 'em in yer 'erbol'gy classes," most faces were blank.

"Poor Neville," whispered Hermione.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, who was standing next to her, gripping quite forcefully onto the furry insect that was buzzing excitedly in his hands.

"Alihotsy leaves-I think Hagrid may have underestimated their effect just a little."

"Why? What do they do?"

"Cause hysteria." Harry met her worried eyes with an expression to match. After all, Neville wasn't the calmest of people.

"Tha's right, Hermione," beamed Hagrid, who had overheard her just then, but apparently not the rest of the whispered conversation. 

"So then, if Neville just takes a few of these 'ere leaves," he held out a handful to the now paling Neville, who had also overheard Hermione. He took a small handful apprehensively. "Once they take effect, we'll give Neville a bit of this Glumbumble serum which should make 'im calm down."

"Go on, just swallow a few bites." Neville raised his hand to his mouth, shooting a desperate glance in the Gryffindors' direction, Ron winced sympathetically. He chewed a few times and then swallowed. Several people, who had seen the effects of Alihotsy leaves before held their breath, while the Slytherins' sniggered. 

For a minute, nothing happened. Neville looked relieved, as did Hermione, Ron and Harry, the Slytherins were disappointed, Hagrid frowned and examining the leaves closely.

"Maybe Hagrid picked up the wrong plant," said Harry.

Hermione looked unsure. "I don't know. I remember Professor Sprout telling us about Alihotsy leaves last year. It can take a while for them to take effect."

"Yeah, but it has been a while and…" Ron trailed off when he caught sight of Neville now.

There was a trickle of sweat running down his forehead. He was trembling and his head shook from side to side, his eyes darting wildly at the crowd that had gathered round him. Neville attempted to take a few unsteady steps forward, only to fall flat on his face into the wet grass.

"Alrigh' Neville," said Hagrid, pulling him up. "Now, jus' calm down and take a bit o' this." He uncorked the vial, and held it out. Neville, shuddering violently now, reached out and grabbed it with shaking hands. It slipped from his grasp, fell to the ground and shattered into tiny, glittering shards. Hermione tried a quick _"Reparo," _but it was too late. The murky liquid had seeped into the soil.

"O' dear," Hagrid's expression was troubled. "Tha's my only bottle of th' stuff. Told Madam Pomfrey I only needed one."

"Well…she must have more, mustn't she? Up in the hospital wing, I mean?" questioned Hermione.

"Yeah, tha's true," Hagrid's face brightened. "Hermione, could yer take him up fer me?" Hermione nodded, just a tad reluctantly, for Neville was now laughing frenziedly and pointing at members of the class. He reminded her of her younger cousin Douglas, after too many sweets.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Severus Snape hated the incessant chatter of the staff room. He only put an appearance in there to please the Headmaster, thus avoiding the sugar coated lecture of the older wizard on how he should get out more.

He retreated to the furthest corner of the room, here he could mark work from his classes as a distraction. Unfortunately, today was only the third day of the new term, and with no work to mark, meant he had no excuse to distance himself from the other occupants of the room. 

So far, there had been no conversation that interested him. Hooch and Flitwick discussed the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team; Sprout was discussing her niece's recent wedding and that old bat, Trelawney was telling her that it was bound to end in tragedy. But then, one topic caught his attention.

"…Hermione Granger?"

McGonagall sighed heavily at Vector's enquiry. "She…puts on quite a convincingly brave face, I'll admit. But she still doesn't appear to be herself. For instance, Hermione has always been a committed student, but now even more so. She came to me just before the end of last term asking for all sorts of extra projects and work."

"Perhaps she just wants to excel herself in her last year?"

"I have no doubt she does, but she gave me the impression that she wanted the extra work to…well, escape. She seemed almost relieved when I warned her about having hardly any free time for herself. Her refusal to take the position of Head Girl was, to say the least, unexpected."

"I must confess, although it worked out well for Sprout's house, with both Macmillan and Abbott becoming Heads, I was rather surprised. Did she say why she didn't wish to accept it?"

"Only that 'she had enough to be getting on with' this year. I don't understand it. It's been her greatest ambition since first year."

Vector paused, as if considering whether to ask. "Do you think perhaps it's to do with what happened last year?" 

"I'm more than sure it is. But when Hermione was taken, she was the only one. As far as I know, she hasn't told a soul about what she saw that night. Thank Goodness Albus managed to track her down. I shudder to think what might have happened otherwise."

Vector shook her head sorrowfully. "Children aren't meant to have to see these things. Potter has had it worse than all of them, of course, with basilisks and the like. But I don't think there's many at Hogwarts who haven't experienced some elements of You-Know-Who's power."

Severus snorted inwardly. Potter. Oh yes, the 'boy who lived', famous because of his mother's sacrifice. All he had seen of his 'bravery' had been his constant habit to wonder into trouble, with the same bemused expression painted on his face each time. 

"I must ask you..…Hermione appears to be in reasonably good spirits at the moment but if anything should happen this year, should her demeanour change…maybe you'll treat her a little less…stressfully than you would your other N.E.W.T students?"

"Oh, of course, Minerva."

Snape couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Nonsense," he muttered, more audibly than he'd intended. Most of the occupants in the staff room jumped. He had been so silent before, it was easy to assume he wasn't there or simply go along with the facade. 

"Severus?" asked Minerva.

He drew in a breath, "I simply meant that to treat the girl with kid gloves would be an insult. Both to her mind and her-what is that noise?"

Outside the staff room there was a terrible sound of sobbing mixed with laughter. "Neville…please…I can't take you up there if you don't get off the floor…oh, come on," came a stifled voice. "Oh…_Mobilicorpus!"_

The door flew open and Snape was greeted with a strange sight. Granger was leading a floating Longbottom in the direction of the infirmary. "Miss. Granger. What are you...Longbottom, I should have known. Let me guess, a Cheering Charm gone awry?"

"No…A-Alihotsy leaves…" mumbled Hermione. She couldn't understand it. Even before now she'd been able to get her words out properly and even managed to look him in the eyes.

"Indeed. I'll take it from here. You may return to your class, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded, mutely and took a few steps in the opposite direction. "And kindly don't forget our appointment this evening." She gritted her teeth, but continued.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After dinner, Hermione began her descent to the dungeons. The distinct coldness, so unlike the warmth of Gryffindor Tower, had begun to hit her and despite her resolve she shivered.

When she reached the door that led to Snape's office, she came to a halt. Hesitantly, she brought up a hand and knocked lightly. Hearing the noise it produced, she shrank back from the door. 

A somewhat silky voice, sounded from within. "Come in."

Hermione's eyes widened. Had she just thought of her professor's voice as "silky"? Taken slightly back, she pushed down on the aged chrome handle; it was embellished with a twisted serpent, and stepped inside.

Whatever she had been expecting this wasn't it. There was no cold, continuous stone floor and walls but a thick, bottle green rug and tapestries hanging all around, portraying the infamous Slytherin snake. A fire roared underneath an oak mantel and bookcases lined the walls. Two, comfortable chintz armchairs were placed in the corner and a desk with various bottles and books on it's surface, stood next to a second door, leading, Hermione supposed, to his private chamber. Taking it all in, she realized Snape's office felt a way she had quite unanticipated- warm and inviting.

"If you have quite finished gawping…"

Hermione started and faced teacher. He met her eyes for a split-second before he strode past her to the door near to the desk and pulled it open. She blinked, until she realised she had been wrong. It was not his private chamber after all, but a small, private laboratory. 

Small, but fully equipped, none the less. She lost count of the many rows of labelled bottles, lined up on the shelf that went along the length of the small room. Locked ingredient cabinets, with glass fronts also intrigued her. She had only ever glimpsed a small sample of the ingredients Snape kept privately in her second year when she had snuck into his private stores to steal the Boomslang skin.

"Your task will be to brew a simple Hair-Raising Potion" Snape broke into her private wonderings about what those cabinets could contain. He motioned over to the lone, wooden desk in the centre of the room. Upon it were the ingredients and equipment she needed. "I will be doing my own work. I trust you have the competency to carry it out without my assistance?"

Hermione nodded, wordlessly and walked to the desk, wondering why she had not been told to do a more unpleasant assignment. But, surprised at her luck, she did not question it and simply began. It didn't take long for her to feel the heat of the room and pull her dark robe off, leaving it to rest on a nearby stool. 

At the rustling noise, Snape turned. Hermione, with her back to him was now, not dressed in her usual robes, but what he presumed to be the Muggle clothes she wore out of class. Strangely, he allowed his eyes to linger on her figure. He had not noticed the little changes that had taken place in Hermione Granger over the last year and now observed them fully for the first time.

Her once-bushy hair had been cut just below her shoulders and was now smoother, sleeker. She held her head high and his eyes traced her small shoulders down to her slender waist and the hips, which had once been slim but had now gracefully developed into smooth curves, generously hugged by the short blue skirt she was wearing.

She turned slightly, allowing him to see what had been concealed from the back. She wore a white blouse, which although not being tight, fell in all the right places. The _very_ right places in fact. Shocked at letting his mind wander so far, Snape snapped his head around to where it should have been, disgusted with himself. How _could_ he stare at his student like that?

Some time later, after stirring the first ingredients briskly, Hermione poured in the rest of the powdered snake fang into the cauldron with the rat-tails, which reminded her, unwillingly, of her encounter with Wormtail in the Shrieking Shack in her third year and more recent events. Stirring the glutinous, teal-coloured potion again, she set it back onto its burner.

While she waited for the potion to simmer, she sneaked a quick look over her shoulder to see what the Potions Master was doing. With his back to her, Severus Snape appeared to be holding up a purple liquid in a measuring tube to the dim candlelight. She took the chance to study his profile.

Black, oily hair that the boys had often commented nastily on during his tedious Potions homework, adorned his head. But now she understood the reason for the grease. Her own head wasn't feeling so cool anymore, with the rising vapours coming from her cauldron and the general humidity of the room. She began to wonder what his hair would look like after a shower, or even a few hours away from the heat from his cauldron. 

Her eyes trailed down his long, black robes. It was hard to tell the true shape of his figure through the dark material, but he looked quite slim and well proportioned. The jokes made by Gryffindors through the years about his body shape didn't seem to make sense any more. In truth, if you took away the sallow skin and the pallid appearance, he would be positively…good-looking.

Startled by her train of thought, she whipped her head back to her cauldron. In so rapidly doing so, her arm carelessly knocked it aside, causing its contents to pour onto the desk, splashing onto her face and arms.

She didn't feel anything for a moment, just embarrassment at having been so careless. But then she felt it. The tingling chill running down her spine, the sudden inability to move.

Then the memories came…..

…..And the tears.

At the crashing noise, Severus reeled round, his eyes flashing at the mess she had made. But then he saw her.

Hermione had fallen to the floor. Her hands were clamped over her face and she was speaking incoherently to herself, while shaking back and forth. He kneeled on the ground, roughly grabbed her shoulders and shook them in an attempt to pull her out of the miserable trance she had sunk into.

When, she came to, her hands were still securely covering her face, which he peeled away gently.

Hermione's eyes were filled with tears that streamed endlessly down her cheeks. Almost tenderly, he wiped them away with his hands, hushing her sobs.

"What happened?" he asked urgently. " What did you see?"

For a moment it looked like she was about to tell him, but then he saw the recognition appear momentarily in her eyes. She scrambled to her feet and backed away, still staring at him.

Before she ran out of the laboratory, his footsteps behind her. Snape had just reached the passageway outside his office to see her disappear around the corner.

"Hermione!" he yelled desperately after her but she didn't turn back. He was left to fall back against his doorway, confused and troubled about what had just taken place before his eyes.


	4. Revelations

**A/N:** Thanks a lot to everyone who reviewed my last chapter. I means a lot that you liked it and I'll try to read yours whenever possible. I hope this next chapter meets your expectations and again, please R&R!

The song lyrics for "Fear" in this chapter belong to Sarah McLachlan, a singer I hugely recommend if you've never heard of her. Plus, thanks to my beta, Angel, who's given me so many great ideas since I started talking to her.

**4.Revelations**

It was a long while before Severus removed himself from the doorway and re-entered his office. Pushing aside one of the old tapestries, he made his way into his private chamber.

Seated heavily in his comfortable leather chair, he began to reflect on what he had seen. This wasn't how the evening had been planned at all. It was meant to be a simple detention, some work on the article he hoped to publish on the making of Wolfsbane Potion, perhaps a strong drink and then an early retirement to bed.

The look in Hermione's eyes had been all to clear to him- Fear. The type of fear that left souls broken, faith undone. Yes, he recognised it well. He'd seen it at every Death-Eater's Gathering, every Dark Revel. Not only in the faces of the ill-fated Muggles, but in himself most of all. Severus was no longer curious at her silence, but the reason behind it. Had she simply lost her ability to trust? Or had she seen something she was physically unable to retell? His mind drifted back to that ill-fated day not so long ago...

In April of that year, all hell had broken loose. Death Eaters openly demonstrated their allegiance, the death toll rose ever higher every day and most of all; Hogwarts was safe no longer. Children of those who were faithful to the Dark Lord whispered secrets; Muggle-borns were harmed in plain sight and there were rumours that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had a very well placed spy in a position at Hogwarts. Trust was very hard to come by at that time, nobody dared say too much.

When the time came that Dumbledore decided Harry Potter needed more protection than Hogwarts and his uncle's home, he moved him to a safe house, along with the Weasley family. A Secret-Keeper was to be established, Dumbledore himself.

The evening before this took place, Hermione, although she protested, was taken home, or at least, that was the intention. From Hogwarts, Tonks took her to Hogsmeade station, to see her home and then to return to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Seconds before Hermione had stepped onto the train, a man had raced onto the platform, dressed solely in black with a mask covering his face. He had been carrying a shoe in one hand and lunged forward to push it into one of hers. Before Tonks could react, the connection had already been made and Hermione gasped in horror as the Death-Eater smiled cruelly.

"Just where do you think you're going…Mudblood?"

Tonks had apparated to Headquarters instantly. In the kitchen Dumbledore, Snape and Arthur Weasley had been sitting at the table, talking quietly. They had all stared at the dreadful expression on the witch's face before jumping to their feet and asking what had happened.

"Death-eater…Portkey…Hermione…"

Upon hearing those words, there was great commotion. More members were summoned and some raced to the location of her disappearance. As the Fidelius Charm had not been cast yet and Harry had not been moved to his place of hiding, no one was in any doubt what Voldemort wanted Hermione for.

Snape had agonised over his decision but finally he went to Dumbledore and began speaking in a low voice.

"I've been thinking…perhaps if I were to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side. Almost certainly, he'll be questioning her…torturing her for information about Potter. If I were to do that, then-"

"Severus, you would be killed," replied Albus. "I cannot allow that. You're too valuable to the Order. You would be simply placing another opportunity into Voldemort's hands. It would be far too suspicious if you Apparated just after Hermione's disappearance."

"I could take a Portkey. Make sure she gets it and then…let him do with me what he will."

"Even if we could sacrifice you, there's no possible way to guarantee she's in a condition to receive it."

Severus raised his eyes to Albus's own. "You mean..…" An unanswered question shook in his voice.

"No, I do not believe she is dead. But weak, yes. We must find her soon. I fear her resolve to stay silent will not crumble and Voldemort will tire of her."

"Albus…if there was ever a time to redeem myself, it should be now. If…when he manages to break through the barrier in her mind…he'll know where Potter is, how to find him."

"I'm glad you're concerned for his welfare, Severus bu-"

"You know full well that it is not him I care about! If the Dark Lord manages to get his hands on him…his power would be," he looked to Dumbledore. 

"Unrivalled."

But still he wouldn't allow him to leave. He sat, frustrated for what seemed like hours until the call came. Dumbledore came for him, Harry by his side, eyeing Snape with obvious distrust and confusion.

"It's time Severus, she has been found. And we are needed."

Severus nodded and Disapparated from the kitchen, followed shortly by Dumbledore and Harry holding to a Portkey. The moment he Apparated, he knew where he was. The repulsion ran through him like a knife.

"Severus. You return to my side at last. Unfortunately, in light of the current situation, I very much doubt you are here to declare your faithfulness to me. You have strayed from me, betrayed me, and even attempted to 'redeem yourself'."

 Snape suddenly realised something through the Dark Lord's words. No longer was he to droop his head, to adhere to his cruelty. 

His head slowly rose and he looked at Voldemort directly. "Did you think I couldn't see through your lies?" the vindictive mouth hissed. "_Crucio!"_

Snape was lifted through the air, stabbing pains in his chest as he slammed into the opposite wall. He groaned at the ache that existed everywhere but he managed to pull himself up and looked to Dumbledore for a sign. Albus nodded and drew his wand, as did Severus his eyes glinting with a renewed sense of purpose.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
_But I fear  
I have nothing to give  
I have so much to loose here in this lonely place  
Tangled up in our embrace  
There's nothing I'd like better than to fall  
But I fear I have nothing to give.  
I have so much to lose.  
I have nothing to give._

Still stricken, Hermione crept quickly up the stone steps leading to Gryffindor Tower. When she reached the portrait hole, she stopped. It wasn't that late and she guessed Ron and Harry would still be up, most likely waiting for her to recount her tale of detention. She knew that the minute she tried to deflect one of their questions, she would burst into sobs again.

Instead, she turned around and headed for the second floor.

She entered the out-of-order bathroom, which was permanently littered with puddles.

"Myrtle?" she called out quietly and waited. There was no reply, so she assumed the ghost was either haunting the Prefect's Bathroom or travelling the plumbing throughout the school.

She splashed slightly as she made her way to the only dry corner she could see and sank down so that she was sitting on the floor. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them.

Hermione had thought that she'd managed to stop those memories, which were now flowing freely in her brain, from escaping. But there was no ceasing the hurtful recollections that soared in her mind.

She remembered being flung down stone steps, until she rolled across the cold floor. Her wrists were tied together, thus she could not reach for her wand, which lay hidden inside her robes.

She'd known it was the end. She'd believed it. How long until he brought her to face him again? How much could she take before he hacked into her mind and found exactly what he was looking for? Dumbledore had taught her certain defences that one could use against Legilimency and the less two fatal Unforgivable Curses, but in the end, what was a sixteen-year old witch's power against Voldemort?

So she lay there, simply waiting, weak from barricading her thoughts against his attacks. The Cruciatus Curse had left her head thudding with a dull ache.

And like some knight in shining armour out of a fairytale, he appeared. Cradling her body to his, he stunned the Death-Eaters standing guard and took her away. The next thing Hermione remembered was waking in the Hogwart's hospital wing. Her arms and legs ached but her head was perfectly clear.

He stood at the foot of her bed, gazing out of the window, at the storm that was raging outside. She lifted her head from the pillow. "Is it over?"

_Wind in time  
Rapes the flower trembling on the vine  
And nothing yields to shelter it from above.  
The say temptation will destroy our love.  
The never-ending hunger_

For a long time, he did not speak or even turn to face her. From his stance, she could not tell his facial expression, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "It's over." He left her as Ron and Harry entered and raced to the bed.

"Are you okay?"

"How are you feeling?"

She had smiled weakly at them and repeated his words. "It's over. I'm just fine."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She returned to the dormitory much later. Nobody remained in the common room and her fellow Gryffindor seventh-year girls slept soundly in their beds. She slipped between the sheets and forced herself to close her eyes and slip away.

Heavy rain pelted against the dorm window with a relentless malice. Nearby thunder rumbled across the sky in a wordless display of raw hunger. Splinters of lightening struck across the ominous, dark sky, spilling brief flashes of light across the tranquil landscape below. With each strike, the relentless shadows of the night seemed to creep ever closer.

Four bodies slept peacefully under the waning light of the moon, secure inside their dreams and oblivious to the night's growing conflict. In the fifth bed, the slumbering form of Hermione Granger tossed and turned as the sheets clung feverishly to her moist body. Hermione's pale fingers dug into the soft material of her comforter as beads of sweat glistened and dribbled down, drenching her nightgown.

As soon as she sat up in bed, gasping wildly, she realised that it had been a mistake to sleep. Sweat poured over her as she shivered in early morning air. Her head held an echo of the piercing laughter she had heard, the flashes of green illumination battered her eyes like lightening. 

Hermione curled into a ball, her heart pounding in her ears. Visions, of the dream, no, nightmare she had just experienced, danced through her mind with all the grace of a ballerina. The feeling living inside of her was as though all her internal organs had plummeted to her feet, leaving her empty, a shell. But not devoid of emotion. Quite the opposite, in fact.

She jumped from the bed, covers sprawled on the floor. Pulling on her robe, she walked quickly and decisively. There was only one face she could see; only one voice she knew would truly understand her fear.

Perhaps in her right mind, she would have stopped to glance at a mirror and straighten out her appearance. But her streaked face and dishevelled hair didn't occur to her as she left, half running to the dungeons.

When she reached them, her eyes heavy with sleep and dry tears, groped at all the doors available to her. Why was it so confusing now? 

"Lost little lamb are we?"

Startled, she grabbed her wand and whirled around, brandishing it at whoever had disturbed her. Filch, who had merely looked satisfied at catching a student out of bed so late, was now angry. "I wouldn't go pointing that thing around. It'll only get you in more trouble and believe me, you're in for more than your fair share," he told her, a sadistic glint shining in his eyes.

Hermione didn't care; she would have readily Stunned him on the spot except some restraint pulled her back. "I daresay Professor Snape will want a say in your punishment. Oh, yes. And you're a Gryffindor student as well," he added, eyeing the badge sewn to her school robes. "How…convenient". 

He took a few steps down the chilling corridor and rapped sharply on Snape's office door. No answer. He knocked again, until the faint sound of footsteps was heard.

"Who's there?"

"Argus, Professor, I have something you may like to see."

They heard him shuffling around in his office mumbling to himself. "If it's not some unidentified noise, it's Peeves's exploits. Every night, every bloody night. Would it kill the man to sleep for once?"

The door flew open. Snape, looking distinctly ruffled, appeared. "What is it now, Filch?" he began and his eyes fell on Hermione, who was now trembling from the cold and giving him the strangest look he had ever received from a student. It was as if she was pleading with him with her gaze. "Miss. Granger."

"Indeed, Professor. Out of bed, wondering the dungeons, trying to cause trouble no doubt. I would suggest, Professor, that you-"

"Thank you Filch. I will deal with this," said Snape dismissively. He gestured for Hermione to follow him into the office, shutting the door behind them. Filch, not sure whether to be satisfied or not, stared at the closed door for a time but then continued with his nighttimes prowling, Mrs. Norris at his heels.

Inside the office, Severus sat Hermione down. He surveyed her until she began to speak. "I couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you came to me, of all people?" He swiftly hated himself. How could he just toss what she had said away, when he knew what it meant?

Her voice was a whisper. "I couldn't think of anyone else." She slumped in the chair. Maybe coming to him had been a mistake. She rose, only to be pulled back to her chair by a strong hand on her arm. She shivered at his touch and swallowed.

"You're not going anywhere. Not just yet. I need to know what you saw. If your reaction was anything to go by, this needs to be dealt with." 

Hermione still didn't say anything, her gaze too deeply rooted on the hand gently resting on her arm. A slight tingling sensation wound its way through her, reminding her of currents of electricity. 

"Miss. Granger.... Believe me when I tell you that reliving memories such as yours and locking them inside of you will pull you into an abyss of fear. Fear that would not remain if you simply talked about it."

Finally she opened her mouth. "It's hard…to talk."

"Then show me." His voice quietly brought her to face him. Hermione slowly nodded,

Severus took her hands in his own. "Just let me in. Don't fight it," She closed her eyes. She felt safe, unlike the swirling stream of emotions that had enveloped her before. 

Suddenly, he realised that she trusted him. He doubted that she would have closed her eyes and allowed him to guide her without it. Breathing out softly, he let himself be pulled into her mind. She didn't resist. Simply showed him what he needed to see. 

When he was done, she opened her eyes. His were gazing back at her, seeming to penetrate her. For the final time that night, she cried. He held her to him, rocking her gently until her tears stilled.

"It's so hard to breathe," she had whispered.

"I know," he softly replied. 

He held her until her lids drooped once more and she lay peacefully in his arms. He took her into his bedroom and placed her on the bed. Before leaving, he stooped to drop a light kiss on her forehead. Not knowing what had come over him, he left, resigning himself to a restless night on the couch.

_But I fear  
I have nothing to give  
I have so much to loose here in this lonely place  
Tangled up in our embrace  
There's nothing I'd like better than to fall  
But I fear I have nothing to give.  
I have so much to loose.  
I have nothing to give.  
We have so much to lose…_

In the early hours of the morning, Severus climbed the stairs and pushed open the door leading to the Headmaster's office. 

Heavily, he regarded the twinkle less eyes of the older wizard. "What have you learned, Severus?" asked Albus Dumbledore.


	5. Trust and Guilt

**A/N:** Thanks a lot for your reviews. It means a lot to me when I see a nice word and it does tend to send me on a bit of a high. **grins**  Anyway, school's back in again tomorrow and I'm starting my final year. I have no idea how much free time I'll have but I'll update as frequently as I can.

I like where the story's going so far and have a vague idea of a sequel, and my beta Angel's helped me sort it out in some sort of make-sense order, as well as giving me lots of new ideas. Thanks. :) If you have any comments, please tell me or e-mail me.

Please R & R if you enjoy!

**5. Trust and Guilt**

**__**

The elder wizard reclined in his chair, his brow furrowed, surveying Severus over his half-moon spectacles. "I must ask that you do not desert Miss. Granger in her time of need, Severus. You often have a tendency to pull away from others when you reach the point of trust. I fear that I have often been the one to stand by and watch as you let yet another relationship slip away." 

"Albus, I don't need you to validate me. Herm- Miss. Granger would thrive more from your knowledge and your compassion. She holds you in higher opinion than most, respects you more than any other. It would be better for her to come to you." 

"Have you ever truly felt that Hermione does not respect you?" Severus didn't speak. "Hermione doesn't need my assurance or learning, Severus. She does not need to understand, she needs to be understood. My advice and well wishings can only do so much. She has to feel that the person she addresses her deepest fears to, recognises those fears within themselves." 

"What are exactly are you asking me of?" 

"You may do as you wish Severus. Though I must advise you to have patience." 

"It's too much to expect that she can learn to have fortitude, like you instilled me with, Albus. It takes time. She's little more than a child. Her whole life ahead of her, marred by a single memory." 

"She is more than a child. You have long since established that." Severus stood. " I will do what I can." 

"I am sure of that." He turned, walking to the door. With each step, his pace quickened and his features were more set, more determined. "Oh, and Severus?" Snape paused at the door and turned towards the headmaster. "Time heals all wounds, it is only we who procrastinate." 

Almost feverishly, her body, lying atop the green cotton sheets tossed and turned. A hand gripped her cheek, staining it with red creases as the sleeper dropped further into her dreams. 

Hermione walked slowly, unsteadily along the ground. Her vision was blurred and she stumbled, using her outstretched arms to break her fall. She struggled to recall what had happened to her. She remembered, hazily, waving and attempting to smile at Tonks, although her heart felt so heavy at leaving them and the corners of her mouth wilted. The witch waving back, disguising her youth with tightly pinned silver hair and a wrinkled face, also had a tight smile on her features until it was replaced with a look of utter shock. She had darted forwards, drawing her wand but it was too late. 

Hermione whirled to have a shoe forced into her hand and a cruel mouth whisper into her ear. The voice meant something to her, she recognized it…but from where? 

A strong pulling sensation, somewhere behind her navel, grabbed her and yanked her forwards. The moment she arrived at her destination, a hand forced her neck roughly backwards and threw a foul-tasting potion down her throat. She had lost consciousness and woken to…this. 

Her distorted sight was slowly beginning to clear and the disorientated feeling she had had was leaving her. A high, cold laugh slapped her eardrums. She winced and looked up which resulted in her stumbling backwards in terror. Voldemort. 

A voice said mockingly, "Mudbloods." A quiet laughter filled the room. 

"Now, now, Charles. Let it get to its feet before you knock it down again." 

_"Imperius!" _

Hermione's feelings of horror were suddenly alleviated. She had entered a kind of dreamlike state. She felt soothed, relaxed and allowed herself to close her eyes, completely at ease. 

A voice wormed its way into her mind. "Get up." 

Hermione nodded slightly and began to pull herself to her feet. But then she stopped. 

_Why? _

_"Get up. Now." _

_Again, she started to stand. You don't want to stand up. What are you doing? Don't listen! _

_"Get up!" _

This time, blissfully unaware of her conscious yelling at her, she got to her feet. _"Walk to me."_

Again she toed the line. "Now tell me. Where is Harry Potter?" 

"He's-" Alarm bells sounded in her head. Her own voice shrieked at her_. Stop! You can't tell him! Just stop! _

_"He's-" He'll kill Harry! Remember him? Your best friend? Don't speak! "No!" she yelled. _

_"How about now?" _

Hermione screamed. A pain, like a blade ripping through her body, raced through her. 

Still, the voice spoke to her. _Even if you tell him, do you still think he will allow you to live?_

"No!" 

_"Crucio!" _

She snapped out of the floating feeling immediately. Her hands flew to head as the agony wracked through her again. Voldemort's face, if you could call it that, no longer held traces of amusement. Just anger. Pure anger.  "You'll have wished you'd given in. Bring the Muggle in."

The Death-Eater who had captured Hermione left the room. When he re-entered, he was dragging a rigid bundle behind him. A body, in a blanket. He ripped the blanket off and threw the body across the floor. 

Hermione stared. Her eyes met those of the younger girl lying on the floor, in an obvious Body-Bind. "Chloe…" she whispered. Her small cousin looked back at her. Panic chilled Hermione's heart at the sight of her. How could they? Chloe was just a child, completely unconnected to this world. She knew what was to happen before they told her. 

"We thought perhaps this would change your mind…" One of the Death-Eaters came forward and muttered the counter curse to free Chloe of her unseen binds. The child shuddered and sprawled across the floor. 

"Now…tell me where Harry Potter lies." 

Pulling her gaze from the child, Hermione raised her chin. She looked into the eyes that seemed to be burning into her own and shook her head soundlessly, defiantly. 

"Foolish Mudblood. Harry Potter will die by my hand sooner or later. Your stupidity will earn you nothing. When that time comes, you will wish you had provided me with what I need to know. Now, I ask you again. Where is Harry Potter?" 

"You're a liar, " replied Hermione, her voice shaking and little more than a whisper. 

"You dare to call me your childish names? I was told you had an ounce of intelligence in your head, but apparently not. You have a simple choice. Hurt your family deeply by allowing this child to die…or just utter a few simple words and let her go free." 

"You'll never find Harry Potter." 

"Is that so?" 

"His Secret-Keeper is appointed tomorrow. You can kill me but you'll never find him." 

Voldemort stood and took slow steps over to her. His face close to hers, he laughed softly. His breath rattled over her. 

"Do you not think it is odd that I took one of the boy's closest friends just before the Fidelius Charm was performed? I took great measures to ensure that when my return was announced, when his 'valiant' protectors joined together once more, one of my own was placed in their midst." 

Her heart dropped. Somebody in the Order, someone whom she'd trusted had been passing secrets to Voldemort. 

"Again, you have a choice. This," he pointed his wand in Chloe's direction. The girl slammed mercilessly into the wall, crying out. "Or the boy." 

Even before she spoke, Hermione knew the words that were going to stain her. She had lived to watch her cousin when she had been blessed with life and she was about to witness her end. Green light flashed and a brutal voice pierced her ear. The eyes of the child became unmoving, silent. 

Hermione screamed and shot up, breathing harshly. A steady hand gripped her shoulder. Snape was holding onto her, anchoring her. "I could have waited, kept my mouth shut. You weren't so far away. If I'd just waited…" 

"How were you to know? How could you have possibly-"

"I killed her. I could have stopped it from happening, I could have let her live." 

His hands on her shoulders, Snape's face came closer. "Listen to me. You did what you had to do. You made a sacrifice. He would have killed her anyway and you even sooner." 

"I won't lie to you. What you feel can't be healed by a few well-chosen words or promises of putting it behind you. It can only take time and your own acceptance." 

Hermione's face was slightly calmer now and she relaxed into his hold. "Will you help me?" 

He let go of her, uncertainness in his expression. They looked at each other for a few moments. Time stood still between them. Severus roused himself. "I will do what I can. For now, I don't suppose you are hungry?" 

Hermione let herself smile almost shyly at him. "I could eat something," she admitted. 

Snape went to the table in the corner of his bedroom. He took out a tray and said a few words. When he returned to the bed he had with him a mug of hot coffee and a stack of toast. 

Trying to put her dream behind her, Hermione choked back a small laugh. Had Professor Snape just brought her breakfast in bed? 

Abruptly, the reality of where she was hit her. Struggling from under the sheets, she put her feet on the cold floor and raised herself out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" 

"I'll be late. For class. I-I need to go." A hand grabbed her arm. 

"I think that is perfectly excusable, given the current circumstances." 

She removed her arm from his touch. "I have to go. Please." Her voice was pleading with him.

He looked concerned but bobbed his head slightly, letting her go. 

As an afterthought, she grabbed a piece of toast before rushing out of the room. 

That afternoon, she, Ron and Harry strolled out of castle grounds heading towards Hogsmeade. They were now allowed to visit the magical village more regularly than in their previous years. 

Hermione had expressed her wishes to stay and study but Harry and Ron had refused to leave her behind and had pulled her away from her books, both of them holding her arms captive. It made her smile. They still wanted her around.

"Anywhere you want to go, Herm? Honeydukes?" asked Ron 

"Not really. I'm exhausted. I just want to get a drink or something. And don't call me Herm. It reminds me too much of Grawp."

 "Are you okay?" asked Ron frowning. "You've been acting strange all day." 

Harry joined in. "Yeah, and where were you last night? We waited for ages but you didn't come back. Erica said you weren't in the dorm last night either." 

"I-" she hesitated. " Snape kept me in the dungeons for hours. By the time I got back, all I could do was collapse in the common room. When I woke up this morning, I went straight to the library." She felt a slight twinge of guilt for lying to them.

They seemed to accept that and together, they trooped into The Three Broomsticks. The barmaid, Rosmerta beamed over at them, from behind the counter where a tall, bearded Irishman was obviously trying to get on her right side. 

"Do you want to get the drinks, Harry?" said Ron sliding a few coins across the table. "Want one on me, Hermione?" 

Hermione was surprised. Since when was Ron so generous? "I guess so." 

Harry eyed the two of them for a second. Then catching a look from Ron, he sped over to the bar. 

"So…er…Hermione." Ron started. He was not looking at her but at the table, and the tops of his ears were turning red. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Ron?" 

"I…er..…well…" Ron trailed off awkwardly and started again. "We've been friends for a long time, haven't we?" 

Hermione smiled. "I think you and Harry are the best friends I've got." 

Ron appeared put off. "Yes…er, Harry. Well, I'm just going to say this…" 

On the contrary, he said nothing. Impatiently, Hermione prompted him. "Say what? 

Ron took a deep breath. "This." He leaned forward over the table and pressed his lips to hers. Hermione, too shocked to move, was astounded. _What did he think was he doing? Whenever had she given him a signal to do that?_ At last, he moved away from her, grinning. "I really like you, Hermione." 

Hermione's motionlessness ceased. Reaching across the table, she gave him a short, sharp slap across the face. His grin disappeared and his hand went to up to rub his stinging face. 

"What the hell was that for?" Hermione didn't answer. "I thought that's what you wanted! You've been giving me signals for ages!" 

Furiously unaware of her actions, Hermione grabbed a Butterbeer off the tray Harry had begun to hurriedly carry towards them and dumped the contents into Ron's lap. 

After throwing a fuming glare at Ron's stunned face she raced out of the door and began to run back to the castle, tears threatening to spill over her lids. 

A shadow stepped in front of her, throwing her into coldness. She gasped as she looked up at the figure that had cast it. He spoke and her memory surged with recognition. His red hair flashed in the sun as he leered towards her. 

"Thought you'd never see me again, didn't you, pet…?"


	6. Missing

**A/N: **Thanks to everybody who reviewed my last chapter. It means so much to read your comments. If you like this update, please R&R!

**Jaelle, Captain Oblivious, Ezmerelda, CrazySwimmer27**- Muahaha. Didn't see that coming, did you?

This has been a little slower than previous chapters- I've had a bit of a hectic week, but I'm still here! Thanks to my beta, Angel, again, and if you're interest, I'd seriously recommend her new fics, On Wings of Fancy and Potions or Passions which can be found at AFF.net. Enjoy and please Review!

****

**6. Missing**

After finishing their Butterbeers, Harry and Ron left The Three Broomsticks and set off on their way back to the castle for dinner. Hermione hadn't returned after storming angrily out of the pub and they just assumed they'd see her at the Gryffindor table when they got back.

Frustrated, Ron shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's just, all last year she was been dropping hints, y'know? Even Ginny told me Hermione had admitted it to her that she likes me."

"That's odd," remarked Harry.

"What is?"

"Since when does Ginny tell you that stuff?"

"Oh, I threatened to tell Mum that it was her who flew Charlie's old broom into a tree. She still thinks it was George."

"Ah."

"Anyway, I thought she'd be happy if I made the first move."

"Well, it was kind of unexpected. You could have asked her to go to Hogsmeade or something with you next weekend, instead of springing on her like that. You know Hermione, she likes to be prepared about everything."

"A little spontaneity wouldn't kill her."

They walked in silence for a few minutes as they made their way through the Hogwarts grounds, pausing to wave at Hagrid who was sitting on the steps of his hut with Fang. The half-giant waved back, grinning broadly.

"I reckon we should go to Hagrid's on Friday after classes," suggested Harry. "We haven't been to see him since we got back and I don't think Hermione has either."

"Weird," commented Ron. "I was talking to her in Potions before about the same thing."

"So?"

"Well, she got all offended with me so I assumed she'd already gone down there and thought we were neglecting Hagrid or something."

"Maybe she did. Wouldn't be unlike her would it?"

"That's not what was weird, Harry. She kept getting a strange look on her face and turning away from me. And she kind of looked across at Snape and he, well, nodded at her."

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's not exactly typical of Snape to make it appear like he's noticed her."

"Why didn't I see any of this?"

"Because you were mopping up the spills from darling Draco's cauldron," Ron snorted.

"Oh yeah," said Harry, pulling a face.

"We'll ask her at dinner." Ron shrugged silently puzzling over the afternoon events as they entered the castle.

But Hermione wasn't at dinner and an unoccupied place was laid at the Gryffindor table. However, nobody noticed her absence. It wasn't unusual for her to skip a meal so she could get in maximum studying time and then make up for it later with a quick snack from the school kitchens.

Harry and Ron shrugged off her non-appearance and settled down to eat, Ron throwing the occasional comment about his encounter with Hermione into the conversation until he was told to shut up by Seamus, who was sitting close by, throwing agitated glances in Lavender's direction. Incidentally, she was carrying on a long, rather loud exchange of Seamus's many faults with Callie at the end of the table. Harry shared a sympathetic look with the raven-haired girl who obviously wanted to cast a quick Silencing Charm.

Harry was pretty surprised. Lavender and Seamus had seemed a pretty solid couple since Christmas of last year. But nothing surprised him more, than when an unwelcome guest at the Gryffindor table stopped behind him and cleared his throat obviously.

Harry turned in his seat, whilst shoving a large potato into his mouth. He nearly swallowed it whole, when he found the menacing form of Professor Snape shadowing his chair.

The pensive, pallid-faced Potions Master raised one perfectly arched, sadistic eyebrow at him. Harry stared back at him, avoiding the feeling of intimidation the man normally cast down on anyone to be graced with his presence.

"Where is Miss. Granger?" 

Harry frowned, Ron answered for him. "Why d'you want to know?"

"That, Mr. Weasley, does not concern you. May I add, perhaps before opening your mouth in future, you empty it first? Two points from Gryffindor for your obvious, and disgusting lack of manners." The Slytherin sneered before he turned his attention back to the Gryffindor seeker. "Again, Mr. Potter, where is Miss. Granger?"

"No idea. She could be in the library, I suppose."

Snape nodded curtly and before Harry could echo Ron's question, he had strode away from the table and out of the doors.

Severus left the library, the door slamming shut behind him. Hermione wasn't there and hadn't been seen there at all, according to Madam Pince. He mentally kicked himself. How could he have let her unearth that tidal wave of emotion and guilt and then allow her to leave, with it fresh in her mind? He grimaced and continued to sweep down the corridor at a brisk pace, almost knocking down a frightened-looking first year.

The next place to look would obviously be Gryffindor Tower. He sighed. He would have to ask Minerva. Irritated, he made his way up to that part of the castle and accosted her just as she was about to enter the portrait hole.

"A word, Minerva?" he asked nodding his head over to a lonely spot, which was out of earshot of the steady stream of Gryffindor students, lazily making their way towards their common room.

Minerva looked up at his voice and crossed over to where he was standing. "Yes, Severus?"

"Could you possibly find Miss. Granger for me? I'd like a word with her."

She looked at him curiously. "Any particular reason?"

"I need to tell her something about her…" He thought quickly. Tell her what? His mind remained blank. He wasn't about tell her what Hermione had been through, especially without her permission.

"Her Potions work?"

"Yes…yes, that's it."

She regarded him coldly, "I will see if she's in her dormitory. I must ask you to only keep her a few minutes."

"Of course."

Minerva stepped behind the portrait and made her way through the common room. A group of first years were reading the notice board, while the rest were sitting around, talking, doing homework and playing a game of Gobstones.

Quickly, she climbed the stone steps, until she found herself at a door at the top of the tower. The seventh year girl's dormitory. She turned the handle and stepped inside.

Three of the girls were inside. Lavender was braiding Parvati's hair while Erica read aloud from a Muggle magazine.

"Okay…question three. Do you prefer- a, the boy next door, b, the rebel, c, the science geek or d, the se-Professor!" All three girls jumped and Erica closed the magazine with a snap.

Minerva nodded to her, "Miss Stout. I don't suppose any of you have seen Miss. Granger?"

"Hermione?" answered Lavender. " Not since…well, Potions class before lunch. She wasn't here this morning either."

"She did not sleep in the dormitory?"

Lavender went red as Erica and Parvati glared at her.

"I see. If you see her, please tell her that Professor Snape wishes to speak to her."

She left the room, but before the door closed, she heard Parvati's voice.

"You keep telling her she should get out more, and the minute she does it, you go running to McGonagall!"

"I didn't go running…"

Minerva shook her head and wiped the small smile from her face before entering the common room. Girls would be girls, she thought, strangely out of character. Though she didn't approve of any of her House being out of bed when they shouldn't be, she decided not to comment. It looked as if Miss. Granger was becoming more herself again.

Severus paced the hallway. The thought that he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say to Hermione when she came out had just occurred to him. Was he overstepping the thin line of trust that lay between them already, by visiting the tower like this?

In answer, the portrait slid aside. Minerva was now facing him.

"I'm sorry, but she's not here Severus."

He paused, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. "She's not there?"

"No. Perhaps you might try the library?"

"I've already been there."

"Well, maybe you could talk to her tomorrow."

"Where else would she be?"

"I do not expect Hermione to tell me her exact location at every minute of the day, Severus. Is it really that important?"

Severus wasn't listening. His mind scanned all the possible places that Hermione could be. Where he had gone.

"The grounds," he said, half to himself.

"Pardon?"

Snape didn't reply, his footsteps swept soundlessly across the floor as he made his way towards the doors that led to the grounds.

Minerva frowned at his retreating back and left the portrait also, but in the opposite direction.

Albus Dumbledore was setting the Hogwarts seal onto the back of an envelope when Minerva McGonagall emerged from the staircase that led to his quarters.

He smiled at her whilst attaching it to the outstretched leg of a large, superior-looking barn owl. "Good evening, Minerva." The owl took flight and soared through his window.

She looked back at him seriously. "I wish to talk to you, Albus. About Severus."

"Anything in particular?"

"He came to see me this evening. He was looking for Hermione Granger, about her Potions work, apparently. But…I don't think that was quite the reason."

"Why do you doubt his intentions?"

"I'm not sure, Albus. It seemed to be more than that. He had the strangest look in on his face when I told him I didn't know where Miss. Granger was."

Dumbledore slowly raised himself from the chair. "He was looking for Miss. Granger?"

"Yes."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"The grounds, I think. He said she wasn't in the library."

The Headmaster left his desk and walked over to where Fawkes, a magnificently coloured phoenix, was perched on a tall bookcase.

"If you wouldn't mind, Fawkes?" The bird shook itself and untucked its wings.

"If you happen to see Severus, make sure he knows I want to see him."

"Why is he really looking for her, Albus?

The phoenix flew through the window and Dumbledore watched his path as he circled the grounds. Then he turned back to the Gryffindor Head of House. "You should sit down, Minerva. I don't imagine he'll be long."

Indeed he wasn't. Not less than five minutes later, the phoenix swooped through the window, landing on Dumbledore's shoulder, singing dolefully.

"You could not find her?" he asked the bird. Fawkes became silent.

Dumbledore fingered his long, white beard thoughtfully. Then, Snape emerged from the staircase, his dark robes thrown askew and his raven-like hair clinging to the few beads of perpetration still lingering on his forehead.

"Tell that bloody bird, nobody appreciates being swooped down on without warning." Snape sneered at the offending creature.

Ignoring him, Dumbledore asked, "Did you find her, Severus?"

Snape shook his head, wordlessly in frustration.

Dumbledore sighed.

"Perhaps we should enlist the aid of the portraits and resident ghost, Headmaster?" McGonagall asked looking between the two worried wizards, confusion clearly written on her face.

"That would be wise," responded Dumbledore.

The witch heaved a sigh. "Would somebody please tell me, what is going on here? And may I ask, where is Miss. Granger?"

"Minerva, I rather think that you ought to sit down for this." Dumbledore said, the twinkling merriment was strangely absent from his blue eyes. 


	7. Taken

**A/N:**Okay, I know my updates keep getting slower and slower, but I've been busy and I kind of had writers block for a while there. So, to make up for it, I've posted two chapters tonight.

Thank you to everybody who reviewed my last chapter-it means a lot to me.

Full credit for Chapter 8 goes to my beta, Angel. The prophecy is her writing and I'm really grateful that she gave it towards my story.

Enjoy! Review if you like it- I won't know otherwise!

**7. Taken**

It was the stench that hit her first. The permeating odour stung her nostrils sharply. She began to cough hoarsely and found that when she tried to lift her hand to her mouth, she couldn't. It felt bound, but not with rope. The coldness that filled the place slowly enveloped her, making her numb. With difficulty, she rolled over and opened her eyes. 

A feeling of dread fell upon her. Grey, stone slabs met her eyes as she gazed upwards. Cruel, steel bars were around her. She was in a cage. 

Hermione Granger had never been claustrophobic, but the bars that confined her held barely any room to move and she began to feel closed in. 

Feeling the numbness in her neck slowly wearing off, Hermione raised her head slightly off the ground. Her eyes burned. Someone had stripped her of her robes, left her naked. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the heavy silence to her. "Awake?" 

Hermione's first impulse was to turn, as best she could, to the direction from which the voice had came. But then she realised, the last thing she wanted was for him to know she was awake. Then he could carry out whatever he had been planning to do to her. Instead, she closed her eyes and gently turned her head back to the ground. She tried to still her breathing, but Hermione's heart had other ideas as it pounded away in her chest. 

"You may be a great student Hermione, but you can't act for peanuts." 

"…Please…don't…" she whispered.

An unseen force lifted her upwards, and pinned her back against the bars. She shivered at the sub-zero contact.

"Don't do what?"

Hermione lifted her head, her eyes meeting those of a familiar redhead, who smirked at her, an unpleasant glint in his blue eyes.

"Don't give you the punishment you deserve for leading Dumbledore to murder my master?" The familiar voice sneered, just inches away from her face.

There was now pressure on her back, pulling her downwards, her head to her knees, still suspended above the ground. She moaned in pain.

"You really are pathetic, Granger. Any decent _Mudblood_ would have managed to stand the pain at least a few moments longer." His eyes trailed down her body, leering. "But I think I understand what my misguided brother sees in you now."

Hermione managed to find her voice, through the agony that was searing through her. "You can't be. You're not Charlie." 

The figure of Charlie Weasley laughed. "Oh, I think you'll find that I am very much myself. Just stronger than my Muggle-loving family knows."

She felt the vile churning in her stomach as reality began to crumble around her. The man who was part of the family she loved very much, the same man who she'd laughed with at the Quidditch World Cup, who'd been a member of the Order, was now holding her captive. Naked and ashamed, all she could do was stare at him in mute shock. She knew what was most likely to happen. Her wand had been taken; she was unrobed and had no way of escape. 

As if reading her mind, Charlie spoke. "I can't admit I would certainly enjoy…using you for that purpose. But that would be wasted on you. You have so much more potential…to suffer."

He began to pace slowly around the cage that held her. "You see Hermione, an act of rape would emotionally injure most women, including you. But after watching you for some time, I realised something. Your emotions range higher than many. You would feel violated, betrayed…but most of all, angry."

As he passed her, he drifted his fingers across her bare back, making her flinch but leaving her with a lingering feeling of warmth.

"That would not be true punishment for you, Hermione. I wanted you to be stripped…emotionally. It starts with shame. Which you are already feeling. Then guilt. You may have recoiled from my touch," he paused, looking slowly over her.

"But, your mind cried out for that feeling of warmth to be with you again." 

"Eventually, my dear. I intend to leave you isolated. From your happiness, from your sorrow. From everything. Your entire world will be a void."

His words sank through Hermione. She felt no relief from the fact he was not about to rape her. It would have been preferable to the fate she was now facing. 

She would not admit this to anyone, but it embodied her greatest fear. From her beginning at Hogwarts, from the moment she had received her letter, she had reached what she had always wanted. A way out. The wizarding world had shown her all the amazing things she could be. And she intended to fulfil those dreams. 

When her parents had simply suggested leaving it for just a while, she had been afraid. Something had threatened the security she had found at Hogwarts. She was scared to leave it, scared that it would forget her and she would wake and this would all just have been a wonderful dream. It might have been irrational, but she feared it.

She could have laughed. This fear had been taken to the extreme. She was about to live out the rest of her life - in a box.

Minerva McGonagall stared at the grave faces of the two wizards who stood before her.

"Do you really think she's been…taken?" 

"It is a possibility that we must not overlook," replied Dumbledore.

"But, Albus, who would have done such a thing? V-Voldemort is gone and all his supporters, all of his Death-Eaters have either been killed or sent to Azkaban."

"Correction, Minerva," interjected Severus tersely. "All _known_ Death-Eaters have either been killed or sent to Azkaban."

McGonagall fixed him with an icy glare. "I still do not see, or have not been told, what part you have to play in all of this, Severus."

"That isn't important right now. We must find Miss. Granger first, than we can deal with the rest," responded Dumbledore, gently.

"I still do not see why he-" McGonagall was interrupted in her defensive reaction by an abrupt Umbridge-like cough from the door.

Sir. Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost had just floated through it. His mouth was in a straight line, his eyes serious.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

"Sir Nicholas?"

"No spirit in this castle has been able to find her, Professor. The portraits have also searched the castle thoroughly. We suggest the grounds be searched for Miss. Granger."

"We've already searched the grounds!" Snape hit the desk with his fist, causing all the others in the room to look round in surprise. The Potions Master rarely showed displays of frustration amongst his colleagues.

"Severus, please calm down," said Dumbledore. "Nicholas, the grounds have already been searched thoroughly and Miss. Granger is nowhere to be found. Is there anywhere else you think she may be?"

Nicholas thought for a moment. "Perhaps the Forest? The village of Hogsmeade?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not think Hermione would have strayed into the Forest. But Hogsmeade…"

He looked to Snape who was waiting for his decision silently. "We cannot search Hogsmeade at this late hour without arousing too much attention. I think we should enlist further help."

"But from who, Headmaster?" asked McGonagall.

"I will send an owl to the Ministry."

Snape scowled. "You would have Fudge come here? That bumbling fool would simply get in the way."

"Severus," the wizened headmaster admonished. "Fudge is not the man he was. The events of last year changed him. Changed us all," he sighed heavily.

"I am simply going to ask him to bring the help of Ministry Aurors. Their searching methods will prove more effective, I feel."

McGonagall's face was worried but she seemed in agreement with Dumbledore. 

"I think this is the best thing for Hermione now, Severus. We can only hope we're making a mountain out of a molehill."

Finally, Snape nodded resignedly. "Very well."

Nicholas turned to the door. "Unless you require me any longer Professor, I will tell the others to be on their watch and to offer their assistance to the Aurors, should they need it."

Dumbledore nodded to him. "Thank you, Sir. Nicholas." The ghost exited the room through one of the walls.

"All we can do now is wait."

Everything progressed quickly after that. Within an hour, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic arrived, bringing a team of three Aurors with him- Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks and a tall, rather weedy, young man with blonde hair that Snape did not recognise.

Fudge's face paled as Dumbledore told him what had happened.

"But Dumbledore, do you really think…I mean, is it possible…"

"We have no idea if any Death-Eaters left Voldemort before his demise, or if any managed to escape, unharmed on that day. I do not imagine that all supporters of Voldemort were public about their identity during his reign."

"If that is possible, why would they wish to take Miss. Granger? It makes no sense."

Snape cut in. "It makes perfect sense, Minister. Miss. Granger led the Ministry straight to the Dark Lord and to his death. She, through no fault of her own, is a perfect target for revenge."

The Aurors, standing behind Fudge, looked as if they agreed with Snape. Kingsley Shacklebolt came forward.

"If we might, Minister, I suggest we start with Hogsmeade."

Fudge nodded helplessly. He seemed to be at a loss for words. He was not a man who responded well under pressure.

Suddenly, an idea came to Snape. "I'll be back in ten minutes," he said and darted through the door of the office. Nobody made a move to stop him.

Five minutes later, he emerged from the Gryffindor Tower, a piece of parchment that looked as if it had seen better days, in his hand. He unfolded it and drew out his wand.

Sighing, before he muttered the necessary words, he said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and tapped the parchment with his wand.

Like a spider weaving its web, neat lines of ink appeared on the page, twisting and turning in all directions. He scanned it eagerly, but then cursed. He had forgotten the Marauder's Map only showed passages into Hogsmeade, not the village itself.

Teeth gritted, he shoved the map into one of the deep pockets of his robes, deciding to return it to Potter the next day, and made his way back up to the Headmaster's office. He would have to offer his assistance to the Aurors, instead of taking matters into his own hands.

On the way there, he passed the staff room. A dim light burned within. Forgetting how much he loathed the room, he went inside.

Shining in the glow of the candle, which was placed next to her, the Divination teacher, Sybil Trelawney looked up. A wide smile suddenly appeared on her face.

"Severus! How nice to see you! You know, I was just taking a look at your tealeaves this morning and I noticed something very interesting." Her face took on and expression that she must have perceived as all knowing and mysterious.

Snape merely saw her as he usually did- a rather ostentatious woman who he detested for her pretentiousness.

"There are dark omens clouding your path, Severus. I am sure you would like to discuss them with me-"

"On the contrary Sybil, I have no interest whatsoever," Snape put her down sharply. He could not be doing with her ridiculous 'fortune-telling' tonight.

Trelawney looked at him reproachfully. "Each to his own, Severus."

He turned from her and walked to the door. There was no one of use to him here. 

A clatter from behind him struck his attention. He turned swiftly to see that the candle had been overturned. The rug it had landed on had now been set alight. 

Quickly, he snuffed the flames out with his wand, and replaced the brass candlestick onto the table. Suddenly, his eyes turned to Trelawney. Her figure lay still and quiet in her chair.

He shook her roughly. 

"Sybil!"

 There was no waking her. Trelawney's eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and steady. It was almost as though she had fallen asleep but he doubted very much that she was narcoleptic, or could have fallen asleep so quickly any other way. He was considering going for Dumbledore, when a pair of hands gripped his arms. Wild, bespectacled, green eyes met his own.

Suddenly, Sybil Trelawney found her voice. Looking intently at him, she spoke words, in a hoarse, deep voice quite unlike her usual soft and misty tone, words that chilled Severus to his very core.


	8. The Prophecy

**8.The Prophecy**

_In the land of shadows_

_Where the Phoenix knows fear_

In gilded cage the Lioness lies 

_Twilight approaches before Helios' retires_

_Thrice will the Lion strike_

_Twice shall the Phoenix rise _

_Upon the final blow _

_Tragedy will show _

_Forged in innocent blood _

_Tempered by Horus' hand_

_A new warrior shall be sow_

_From the halls of Light _

_A shadow paladin _

_Of tainted stalwart blood _

_From the ashes shall rise _

_A Serpent born of white flame _

_Born of Phoenix strength _

_From the loins of true blood _

_He shall be _

_On field of honor long scorched _

_A desert in the oasis _

_Shall it be _

_Before the wake of Helios _

_Seth's champion shall dance to Osiris' tune_

**A/N:**This brilliant prophecy was written by **Angel** and should not be considered my own. Thanks again.


	9. She Will Be Found

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reviewing this story- it means a lot that some people keep coming back to it. You really are great. And thanks for the reviews of The Prophecy too- if you want to read more of **Angel's** great fics, send me an e-mail and I'll be glad to direct you to it. Or to her, if you like. Thanks to her for beta-ing this too. Please review if you like this chapter!

**9. She Will Be Found**

When it seemed that she had nothing more to say, Trelawney lunged forward.

"The Lion is near. In a place unmarked. She will be found."

As the last words fell, Trelawney's head drooped. Severus stared at her, disbelieving.

"How can you..? You're not a real Seer...how," he trailed off weakly. Trelawney's eyes fluttered for a second and she lifted her head.

"What's...Severus? Is something the matter?"

Composing himself quickly, Severus drew himself to his full height. His hands gripped the shoulders of a confused Sybil Trelawney.

"What did you See?" he asked roughly. "Why did you say those things?"

Trelawney looked truly bewildered now. "I didn't say anything, Severus. What are you talking about?"

"You spoke! Just now! Can you not remember?"

"I didn't utter a word. Perhaps I fell asleep for a moment."

He let out a cry of frustration. "You said something about a Serpent, a champion!"

"My dear, I didn't say anything of the sort. You are behaving rather oddly." She rose from her chair. "Maybe a visit to Madam Pomfrey would not go amiss."

"I don't need-!" He softened his tone. Trelawney looked even more unnerved by his yelling. "I don't need a medi-witch! I'm quite alright. I-I should go."

He fumbled for the doorknob and slipped out of the door, escaping her concerned gaze.

He was wrong. But he did need Dumbledore however. Severus just hoped he was wrong about another matter also.

Walking quickly, he reached the entrance to the Headmaster's office. It was now locked.

"Sherbet lemon!" he yelled. Nothing happened. He thudded on the wall with his fists. "Cockroach Cluster! Chocolate Frog!"

Suddenly, there was movement and a flight of stairs appeared, spiralling upwards. He scowled. "Damn passwords."

When he reached the top of the stairs, Dumbledore was there to meet him.

"Severus? I heard you shouting. What's happened?"

There was neither the Minister, nor the three Aurors were still standing in the office. Instead, there was just McGonagall, looking alarmed.

"I need the use of your Pensieve. Quickly."

"Albus, I hardly think we should be looking into Pensieves with Hermione still missing."

Dumbledore studied Severus. "Please tell me what has happened."

"I am not sure myself. If I can just see..."

Dumbledore nodded. "You know where it is, Severus." He gestured to the corner of the room, where the Pensieve stood, covered by a red cloth.

Severus hesitated and looked at McGonagall pointedly.

She stared back at him. "What...?" Realization dawned on her face.

"Absolutely not! I am not going to leave while we are still looking for Hermione. If this concerns her, it concerns me! I am her Head of House, Severus, not you."

Severus simply looked back at her.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore, softly. "Just for a few moments."

McGonagall looked furious as she swept down the stairs. Dumbledore turned to Severus.

"I do not enjoy dismissing my colleagues, Severus. I hope there is a reason for the secrecy."

Severus took his wand from his robes. He brought the tip to his forehead. Slowly, a mist of some silvery substance drifted from his head, floating lazily towards his wand.

He brought the wand downwards and gently placed the silvery tip into the Pensieve. The mist erupted into it.

Severus crossed the room to sit in one of the many chairs and looked to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore slowly dipped his head towards the bowl.

Minutes later, he emerged. His face was grey. Severus thought for a moment. Amazing how the age-old wizard never truly showed his age until times like these. The power that was never doubted to those around him overshadowed the oldness within him.

Dumbledore spoke. "I believe you already know."

At this point, McGonagall had obviously had enough of pacing impatiently, waiting to be called in. The door to the office burst open.

"I've had enough!" She blurted out. "Hermione is more my responsibility than yours, Severus!"

"That's ridiculous," said Severus, scornfully. "What has been discussed here is something you know not of."

"Then you should tell me," replied McGonagall, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits, a red twinge appearing in her cheeks.

"And if I don't?"

"Quiet. Petty squabbles will not get us anywhere," said Dumbledore. He shook his head at them. "Severus, Minerva is entitled to know what we have discovered. Minerva, you are not the only one who cares about Hermione's safety."

He looked towards McGonagall. "I will tell you all in a few moments." Then he spoke to Severus and guided him down the stairs, leaving a tight-lipped McGonagall behind them

"You heard what she said. She will be found."

"But where-"

"Sometimes child, the answers that we seek are not before us. But in fact can be found behind us." The elder wizard said, his eyes glittering as though hinting at a wonderful secret. Popping a lemon drop into his mouth, Albus Dumbledore disappeared up the stairs leading to his office.

The Slytherin was left with a puzzled expression sketched onto his face. Turning, Snape abruptly turned on his heel and stalked down the deserted corridor.

Hermione groaned. It was getting late and she'd skipped lunch today. Now she wished that she'd taken more than that slice of toast for breakfast. Her stomach rumbled again and she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head on them.

Still, she refused to eat the meal that he'd provided for her. A glass of milk on a tray stood beside a plate of meat and potatoes. The vapour wandered into her nostrils, making her stomach grow more insistent that she ate something.

But she wouldn't. That's exactly what he wanted. For her to give in to him. To crawl on her hands and knees and allow him to carry out his plan without resistance.

Through the bars she could see the speck of light that had shone through the wall, beginning to dim, and with it, her hope.

Severus strode hurriedly out of the castle grounds and towards Hogsmeade. In the village ahead, few lights were lit and only the odd person was walking through the streets. 

He was still perusing Dumbledore's words. "Behind us? Why can he never just come out with a straight answer?" He thought harder. What was in his past that stuck out the most? The answer came quickly. The most unpleasant memories were often the most prominent, he thought ruefully. The Marauders. Of course. They were but one bane in his painful life. But what…

He froze. "Oh, Gods!" Without another word, he turned and raced in the other direction, across the grass, robes billowing wildly.

Treading softly in the dry mud, trying to keep his harsh breathing from the attack outside quiet, Severus made his way cautiously through the dark passage. When he reached the door, a flash of memories captured him. Shaking himself free, he took a deep breath and pushed the rotting wood inwards. 

Hermione heard the sound, as did her captor. Charlie turned to her, an unnerving familiar white grin lighting his face. "Now the fun begins," he whispered. Ironically, her hope died as the speck of light grew.

A soft glow hummed, piercing the fathomless darkness. Beads of sweat dribbled down his clammy skin, a soft moaning echoed hauntingly from the shadows. Snape swallowed in anticipation as he felt the adrenaline surge through his veins effortlessly. _Of all the places on heaven and earth......._


	10. Slytherin Rising

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter. I know I've been a little longer than usual, so I apologize and promise I will try to hurry up a bit. I have work experience (welcome to the real world, kids) next week for two weeks, so I won't have too much homework. I'll try to update more during that time. Coincidentally, I've also taken the time to write another short fic, **Written In The Stars**. If you like **Lily** and **James**, please have a look at it. I might write a few more shorts like that if they're enjoyed.

I know Charlie is an "unlikely traitor"…but that gives the story it's twist…

This chapter has now been beta-d and this is the repost. Thanks to my wonderful beta, **Angel.** Had some writer's block on this chapter, and "fight scenes" aren't my strong suit. This chapter obviously looks so much better with her help. Please re-read it if you have the time. Thanks for the huge help in this chapter, **Angel.**

If you enjoy this update, please review!****

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**10. Slytherin Rising**

.......The Shrieking Shack. Severus bit back a scowl at the last memories of the place danced behind his eyes. Of course, every Marauder except Remus was now dead, not that it provided him much comfort.

His eyes explored the dark room. Pieces of what resembled furniture littered the dirty floor beneath his feet. From what he could make out, Severus appeared to be alone. But years of hard honed instinct bluntly told him otherwise, dark creatures were more often found shrouded in shadow than in light. 

"It's been a while since I last saw you, my friend." The words rang in his ears as a chill worked its way slowly up his back. "Of course, we were never properly acquainted and perhaps the endearment of 'traitor' would be more suited to the likes of you?" 

Slowly, Severus turned, a pale hand reached into the depths of the billowing material for his wand. 

"Show yourself." 

"Certainly." 

From the shadows, a figure slowly emerged. Speechless, Severus could only stare at the man standing before him, shock and denied warred for dominance as his mind fought to process the unexpected turn of events. Severus had resigned himself to Fate's tempered hand, but nothing could prepare him for this. Reality had slapped her calloused hands across his numb face, 

"Charles Weasley." 

The red haired man grinned. "Surprise." Taking advantage of Severus's shock, the younger wizard produced his wand. Pointing it at the ex-Death Eater, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Severus slumped to the dirt-riddled floor; his eyes watched the Weasley boy. "I dare say a Gryffindor's heart beats within your chest. How unfortunate that your Slytherin brain ceased it's functions at the most inopportune time. You know, I had wondered, Snivellus. Just what kind of knight in shining armour Dumbledore's court jester was." 

Crossing to the centre of the room, Charlie opened the trapdoor with his foot. A cloud of dust enveloped the room, the floating particles filled Severus' nose and irritated his eyes. The need to sneeze and blink the dust away frazzled his senses. 

Two strong arms gripped his shoulders and dragged him across the floor. Numb and confused, he felt himself fall before smacking into the cold ground with a sharp thud. His world was sucked into the abyss of darkness, a mosaic of thoughts and images swirled behind his eyes he fell into the blissful arms of unconsciousness. 

Hermione, weak from lack of food and cold from lying on the ground without being clothed, moaned a little. Her stomach hurt and her head ached. Fear added to the emotional mix. Charlie had left her but a few moments, ago when a sound above had alerted him. He had seemed almost smug at the fact that someone had come to rescue her. She knew his confidence only meant one thing- she would not be rescued. Ever. No matter how many came, Dumbledore could have done it, she knew. But it was too much to hope, that they'd even discover she was missing. Let alone have any idea where she was. 

Suddenly, a dull thud outside the bars attracted her attention. She slowly turned her head; her heart lurched at the sight a few feet away. 

Professor Snape, her Potions Master. What was he…? He had tried to rescue her, she realized. What she couldn't understand was why and how he'd found her. And why would he care about her in the first place? Surely, he would have been glad to get rid of an "insufferable know-it-all?" 

But evidence to the contrary lay before her. His black robes were thrown askew; raven hair limply curtained his eyes in a wild mess. Snape's glazed eyes were open, but unmoving. For a paralysing second, Hermione thought he was dead. Her heart began to beat once more as she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

When she heard the sound of his heavy boots, Hermione shrank back against the icy bars and closed her eyes. Maybe if she wished him away, she would wake in her bed and find that it had all been nothing more then a bad dream. 

"Looks like you have a visitor." His voice purred, "pity he came so soon…others will follow and I could do without the interruptions." 

The door of the cage clanged open and shut as the counter curse was muttered. When she opened her eyes seconds later, she found the limp body of the Potions Master slumped in her cage. Groaning slightly, Severus pulled himself up. Sitting upright against the bars, Severus lifted his foggy head and opened his eyes. 

He stared. Sitting in the opposite corner of the cage was the person he'd been looking for. But he hadn't expected to find her like this. She was crouched over, head to her knees and eyes half closed. And naked. 

Automatically, he averted his eyes. No matter what the circumstances were, he couldn't allow himself to look upon her. 

"I'd get a good look while you can, Sev." Charlie had returned, wearing a gloating expression. "Neither of you will last long and you can't deny that she's a sight for sore eyes." 

Severus lifted his head, eyes blazing. "Shut your mouth. You don't deserve to be in her presence." 

"Don't you get it yet? This is all what we deserve. For killing my master, you and the Mudblood are finally being punished and I am getting the vengeance I have yearned for so long." 

Inconspicuously, Severus reached into his robes. From where Charlie was standing, he'd have a good shot at him. 

"Do you honestly think I am that much of a fool? I removed your wand the minute I put the Body-Bind on you." 

Blinding pain took hold of Severus. His body slid across the floor. 

"Hurts doesn't it? Remember that," Charlie's voice hissed. His boots thudded away. Severus heard the trapdoor swing open. 

Once he was sure that Charlie had left, Severus looked to Hermione. She was staring back at him. He made sure to keep his eyes pinned firmly on her face. 

"Did he hurt you?" he asked gently. 

She shook her head. Carefully, she spoke to him. 

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," he replied shortly. "That's nothing compared to…" He shook himself.

"I'm fine." 

For a moment they said nothing. Then, Severus cursed himself. 

"I'm an idiot. You must be freezing. Here," he pulled off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. She looked mortified and seemed to curl herself up tighter than before; even though she was now covered.

He noticed the food nearby and the paleness of her face. He knew why she had not yet consumed it. 

"Eat," his tone was unusually soft. "You have no reason not to." 

Hermione's face was questioning. 

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of here if it kills me." 

Hermione gripped the black cloak more tightly to her. It wasn't as warm as she would have liked, but it at least covered her up. She was grateful he had amended the situation for her, and had been sure to focus his eyes on her face. 

She was sure Snape had noticed Charlie's return, although he had made no acknowledgment of it. When she looked over at his still body, she noticed something strange. He had his hand in his boot.

She frowned. Then a glimmer of realization spread through her, as she saw his draw something out of it, very slowly. A wand. 

She almost gasped but managed to stay silent. From where he was standing across the room, Charlie looked sharply over at her. She didn't move and kept her eyes fixed to the floor. Once his attention was elsewhere, she looked to Severus. 

He was now staring back at her. With the slightest movement of his head, he gestured to the now empty tray and back to her. 

At first she was confused, but then she understood. He wanted her to cause a diversion. 

With only a moment's hesitation, she stood up and flung the tray towards the bars. With a clash, it struck them, hard. The plate slid to the floor and smashed. 

"What the-" Charlie whirled round. "What are you-" 

_"Antiatis!" _

Without warning, Snape sprung up and pointed his wand through the bars. A silvery mist appeared in front of him, blocking Charlie's first steps.

Unwittingly, he stumbled into it. Hermione watched as he was flung into the air and hung upside down. He was clearly confused, but his flailing arms and legs were of no help. 

_"Alohomora!"_

Snape took action once more as the cage door flew open. 

"Hermione, quickly!" 

Hermione ran out of the cage, just as Charlie realized how to defeat the anti-gravity mist. There was no way to defend herself, without her wand she stood there helplessly. He landed before her, grinning madly. With one shove, she was back on the ground. 

Before Severus could even raise his wand, Charlie raced at him. Lifting his wand, _"Conjunctivitis!" _As soon as the last syllable slipped from the wizard's tongue, Severus' vision blurred and the world spun haphazardly around him. Pointing blindly in the direction he believed the other man to be in, _"Confundus!"_

A loud thud echoed off the walls as something crashed into the rotting pieces of furniture. Severus' ears told him what his eyes could not; Charlie Weasley had smashed into the wall. Straining against the blinding pain throbbing in his head, Severus could barely make out the sounds of the vulgar curses streaming into the wizard's faint rambling. 

Severus cursed under his breath as a jagged piece of wood tore into his leg. Stumbling blindly, Severus half limped and half crawled closer to the faint sounds his ears told him were near. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as a surge of foreign sounds waltzed through his ears, Severus' mind created the grimly images that fluttered behind his defective eyes. Panic screamed at Severus's brain as a familiar word echoed through his heart. Instinctively, Severus flung his protesting body to the side as a voice sang out,_ "Stupefy!"_

Severus braced himself until he realized it wasn't Charlie's voice, but Hermione's. 

There was loud thud followed by deafening silence.

Severus walked forwards uncertainly, one hand still held over the eyes and the other nursing the cut on his leg.

"Hermione?" he asked the silence. There was no answer. A few steps later, he felt a hand grip his arm gently.

"I'm here," she replied.

Tentatively, he removed the hand from his face. His vision was still rather blurry, but he managed to make out the dark eyes from her pale face staring at him in concern.

Charlie's unconscious form lay unmoving on the ground. Severus scanned the room quickly to check for further danger. His eyes fell upon an unfamiliar wand lying upon an old desk. 

"Yours?" he asked. Hermione didn't respond. 

When he turned, he found that she had slumped to the floor. Her breathing was quiet and her eyes were closed. He observed her with trepidation, knowing he should have checked on her the second he regained his vision.

Without a second thought, he scooped her up in his arms. Her light body folded neatly in his arms; the wizard tucked the fabric of the cloak around her cold frame. Pulling her closer against his chest, as though he were afraid of dropping a volatile potion, he picked up the forgotten wand and swept from the Shrieking Shack. He paused momentarily to enjoy the sunshine washing over him before stalking back to the castle. A strand of hair fell across her angelic face as they neared their destination.


	11. Truth and Pain

**A/N:** Thanks so much for your reviews- 96 of them! Can we make it to 100 (or over!) this time…*prods at readers gently* I love your feedback, it makes it worthwhile. Thanks to my beta, **Angel** for checking this out for me and helping progress my ideas. Plus the thing with Severus not tying him up- it's kinda sorted here. Thanks for pointing that out. *Smacks self on head* Anyway, if you like this chapter, please review!

**11. Pain and Truth**

Severus quickened his steps through the grass, which was laden with dawn's dew. The early morning air was chilly and he knew, even underneath the thick black robes, her pale and fragile body would be freezing. Unconsciously, he drew her closer to his body, hoping to share some of his body heat with her.

When he at first reached the entrance to Hogwarts, he was oblivious to the fact that breakfast was starting and many hungry students were traipsing down the stairs.

Their sleepy eyes woke with a start at the sight before them. Their Potions Master, the formidable Professor Snape was carrying, yes carrying, a student across the Entrance Hall. Not just any student. A girl. Hermione Granger, seventh-year Gryffindor, to be exact.

They didn't fail to notice the way he was carrying her either. Hermione was pulled tightly to him, as though she was precious, breakable. _As though he cared about her._

Every student watching dismissed that thought immediately- Professor Snape, caring about somebody? It'd be more believable to call Hagrid dainty. Still, their curiosity was peaked and they watched the Slytherin for a sign as to what called for this peculiar behaviour.

He noticed an Auror that he wasn't familiar with, watching him curiously from the foot of the stairs. He quickly spoke to him, impatient to take care of Hermione.

"You'll find him in the Shrieking Shack. He's Stupefied, powerfully. No chance of him waking for a good hour. I suggest you hurry."

The thin, blonde man stared blankly at him. "But who…?"

"You will find out soon enough! You expect me to blurt it out in a corridor full of students? Go!"

The Auror didn't move for a second, but then suddenly darted out of the hall. As Snape turned, Shacklebolt and Tonks came running out and raced out of the doors.

Snape hurried up the stairs, his eyes focused directly ahead of him, ignoring the disbelieving and questioning eyes. His attention was finally caught by a shrieking voice behind him.

"Severus! 

He did not cease or even slow his long paces, and continued down the hall, weaving his way through the staring students.

"Severus! Stop! Stop this instant!" 

Severus turned to the right and started up a long, winding staircase, his black eyes flashing quickly to Hermione's peaceful, but drained face. McGonagall raced, or attempted to, after him.

"Where are you going? I need to see her! Stop!"

He finally reached the hospital wing, with the elder witch close behind him, breathing heavily. Minerva McGonagall glowered at him as she approached.

Shifting Hermione slightly, Severus reached for the door handle and pushed inwards. McGonagall grabbed his arm.

"I told you to stop."

"I have, so kindly wait until you are needed," he replied tersely. He shook his arm free easily and stepped inside, closing the door very neatly in the Gryffindor's face.

Minerva McGonagall stared in silence and fury at the closed door.

Severus crossed the hospital wing, looking for a place to put Hermione. Gently, he laid her down on one of the perfectly white beds, the sun from a nearby window spilling on her face. He watched her quiet breathing for a moment. Out of nowhere, he felt an urge to sweep the hair out of her face, away from her eyes. As he looked down at her, he had a passing thought, that it should be a crime for such beautiful, dark, rich eyes to be obscured by eyelids.

"Professor Snape?"

Startled at both being caught and at the shrill voice, he whirled around, guiltily.

Madam Pomfrey looked back at him searchingly. Her eyes widened at the tear in his trouser leg and the dried blood around it.

"Oh, Merlin. I thought this would all have ended by now. If it's not three-headed dogs, its Death-Eater gatherings."

She sighed.

"I suppose we'd better get you cleaned up. Let me just find those bandages…"

She walked towards a tall cupboard on the other side of the room.

Severus called her back. "It is she, not I who needs attention."

Pomfrey turned back to him, in obvious confusion. "She? There's no-one else here, Professor."

Severus glared at her. Was she blind? Then he realised that he had hidden Hermione from sight by standing at the foot of her bed. Hurriedly, he steeped aside.

Madam Pomfrey stared at her drawn features. She made her way to the side of the bed and preparing to take off the cold and slightly damp robes, gasped at finding she was wearing nothing underneath.

"Oh, the poor child! What on earth happened?" He eyes turned accusing. "What did you do?"

Severus was offended, and made no show of hiding it.

"I did nothing! How dare you insinuate-"

He was quickly cut off as the door to the hospital wing swung open and a very red-faced witch slammed into the room. McGonagall looked infuriated.

"Severus! I won't stand for this anymore! She is in _my _house and you will consider her as such! I will have no more of your ridiculous disregard of my authority here, and if you insist on causing me more annoyance, I shall simply ask the Headmaster to-" 

"Yes, Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall reeled round at the quiet voice.

"Headmaster!" The voice was Pomfrey's, not McGonagall's. "I will have no more of this, this childish bickering! I have sick students here and I will not have them disturbed!"

This time it was Severus's eyes, which blazed and turned on the medi-witch.

"What do you know of this?" he demanded. "Nothing!"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice quietly admonished. "If you would be so polite to wait outside. I would like to talk to Minerva for a few moments, before you recount the whole story to me yourself."

Severus scowled but left the room, in a flurry of black robes. The second the door clicked behind him, two faces, almost level with his own, stared back at him.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley managed to look deadly serious whilst obviously still knee-deep in confusion.

It was Ron who spoke first, impulsively, and, he noticed, gripping his wand tightly with his right hand.

"What were you doing with her?"

"Five points for speaking in such an accusative tone to a teacher, and what ever are you talking about Mr. Weasley?"

"Half the school saw you! What do you think we're talking about?" answered Harry this time, defiantly ignoring Snape's sneer.

"If you're enquiring to the incident with Hermione Granger, than know she is safe and that the rest is not your business unless she decides to tell you."

With that said, he attempted to sweep menacingly down the hallway towards a pair of curious third year Hufflepuffs.

Ron's voice, more magnified by anger than magic, bellowed after him.

_"What did you do to her?"_

Severus froze. Shooting a foreboding look at the Hufflepuffs, he slowly turned and made his way towards the teenage wizard. He leant down so that his nose was almost touching his.

"Believe me when I tell you that you will find out enough…and you'll wish you hadn't."

His words washed over Ron like a cold breath. The boy was silenced when he saw what lay in his Potion Master's eyes. Sympathy from Severus Snape could only mean something terrible.

"Go to your Common Room. Wait for word to be sent to you to see her. And do not encourage rumours," he finished, glaring at Harry.

"Severus?" Dumbledore emerged from the hospital room. He did not question his actions with the teenagers, simply acknowledged them, as though he knew what had already happened.

"If you would like to lead the way to my office?" the Headmaster requested.

Severus began walking in the direction Dumbledore had gestured in.

Surprisingly, rather than going to Harry as they would have expected, Dumbledore lay a hand gently on Ron's shoulder. "Do not question yourself. What runs in his blood, does not run in yours. You have nothing to bear."

Ron stared up at the headmaster, puzzled. "Whose blood?"

The light in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed a little. He didn't say anything else, but simply nodded to Harry, who looked just as perplexed. He took off after Severus, without looking back.

The two teenagers were left, baffled. The both turned to the door as it opened and their Head of House walked slowly out, an appalled expression written all over her pale face.

When she saw Ron, it fell even further. Ron was astonished when she gave him a stiff pat on the head and the pulled him into an even more rigid hug.

"Eh?" Was the only sound he could muster. McGonagall said no more and left them.

Ron snapped. "What the hell is going on? First Snape being…sympathetic! Then Dumbledore's giving me cryptic advice, and now McGonagall's giving me hugs?"

Harry was just as confused. "Well, if it's that big of a thing, I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later."

Ron was still unsatisfied, but allowed Harry to lead him back to the tower.

When Hermione awoke that night, she felt groggy and her head weighed a ton. She felt warmth around one of her hands, as though someone had enveloped it with their own. She struggled vainly to pull herself up and found that when she tried to speak, her throat constricted her. She began to cough.

"Here, drink this," a voice instructed her. "It'll help you feel better." 

Obediently, Hermione parted her lips and allowed the speaker to lift the glass to them, letting the ice-cold liquid slip down her throat.

"Thank you," she croaked before slipping down onto the pillows again. Her head was swimming and her forehead felt hot and clammy. 

"I don't feel so good…"

"Just close your eyes," the voice soothed. "You have a fever and you need to rest."

Suddenly, Hermione recognised the voice. "Professor Snape?" she asked. The hand clutching her own tensed. Her ailing body unwilling to co-operate with her desire to look at him, to see if he was really there, forced her to close her eyes and drift into slumber.

Two days later, Hermione woke with her head feeling clear and refreshed. Her fever, Madam Pomfrey announced, was gone without a trace and she could get up if she wished. She also had visitors.

"Hermione!" a pair of arms encircled her tightly.

Slightly worried about suffocation, Hermione tried to speak. 

"Ron, please…get…off me," her voice was muffled against his jumper. Finally he let go, and studied her concernedly. She rubbed her arm with one hand and he stared aghast at the long purple bruise that stained her skin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd hurt you…Oh Gods, Hermione…what happened to you?"

Harry's expression agreed, but silently, he gave her a hug that was a little gentler. Hermione bit her lip.

"Harry…would you mind...?" She nodded towards the door.

If Harry was hurt, or put out by her request, he didn't show it. He did what she asked, but cast a curious look back at the two of them as he exited the room.

Ron sat down by her feet.

"What happened?" He asked softly, staring into his best friend's dark, troubled eyes. He wasn't trying to earn brownie points to make more-than-friends status now, he was hugely worried for her, and was desperate to know what she had gone through.

Hermione's eyes were directed downwards. She took a breath.

"When I left The Three Broomsticks…I saw someone I hadn't expected to. He…he took me to the Shrieking Shack where he…"

She paused for a second, trying to think how to explain Charlie's punishment to Ron. Ron however, took it completely the wrong way.

"Oh Gods…he," his mouth was open in horror. "The bastard! And that…" He trailed off, staring at her bruise. "Oh…Hermione."

"He gave me that bruise, yes. But he didn't…touch me. At least, not like that."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"Well…what did he do?"

"He locked me up," she let out a sarcastic laugh. "In a cage. Used a couple of curses on me. That's how I got the bruise. He said that to…rape me…would be worthless to what he finally had in store for me."

Her voice became slightly choked. "He knew, Ron. He knew my biggest fear. It's not being raped, or even cursed."

Tears, blurring her sight ran down her cheeks. "He was going to take it all away. Everything I've worked for, this life, everything, making me hollow." She stifled a sob. "He was going to leave me emotionless, unfeeling. Without a hope in the world. But he meant for me to live with misery, not die of it."

Looking ashamed of her breakdown, she brought her hands up to her face, trying to wipe away the flowing tears. Ron took them away and held them in his own.

"It's okay to cry," he consoled her softly.

She lifted her glistening eyes to his anxious ones.

"Please don't say that," she whispered.

"Why not?" he answered, frowning.

"Because it makes me more afraid to tell you."

He leaned closer to her, tightly holding her hands with his own. "You don't need to be afraid now."

She shook her head sadly. "It's you I'm afraid for."

He gripped her hands a little less strongly. "Why?" he asked.

"Ron. The man who kidnapped me…he…oh, Ron, it was…"

Ron's fury interrupted her. "I knew it! I'm going to kill Snape! That evil, stinking traitor! And Dumbledore still trusts him!" He yelled, incredulously. Hermione laid her hand on his arm and shook her head slowly, staring at him in consternation.

"No, Ron. It…it was…"

Her next word came out as little more than a breath.

"Charlie."


	12. Denial Is Sweeter

**A/N:** Thank you for all of your reviews- 120 of them! It means a lot that people keep coming back to it; I'd rather thought interest in it would dwindle at some point. This is the second posting of this chapter- it has now been beta-d. Thank you, **Angel**. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please review if you do.

**Ljkperson- **Hey, you noticed the Lord of the Rings reference! To be honest, that's not what it was about- it's more to with Hermione's character, but I realised when I posted it, that it's not unlike Eowyn's fear. 

**"A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire." (TTT, film version.)** I was really moved by that scene.

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**12. Denial is Sweeter**   
  
Silence reigned as Ron stared at her wordlessly. He shook his head as if trying to convince himself he'd head her incorrectly.   
  
"Charlie…but…why would he be…" His eyes met hers, and the bewilderment she saw in them hurt her too much to speak.   
  
"Hermione…he's my brother…how could he be a…" he trailed off.   
  
"Death-Eater?" she supplied, quietly.   
  
At the word, Ron rose quickly from the bed, shaking his head vigorously.   
  
"But he's Charlie! He was in the Order…he hated You-Know-Who…why would he hurt you?" Ron's voice was becoming higher and shrill, hurting her ears.   
  
"Charlie was in the Order, Ron. But he didn't hate Voldemort."   
  
"Don't say that!" Ron yelled. Hermione stared back at him in shock. "Don't say His name!"   
  
"Why not? You can't be afraid to say Voldemort forever!"   
  
"Shut up!"   
  
"Ron! Calm down!" Her voice became softer and Ron slumped to the bed, his head swimming. "Please, calm down. You have to listen to me. Charlie took me, Ron. He wasn't the man you knew."   
  
Slowly, Ron lifted his head. "How do you know it was him?"   
  
Hermione gazed back at him. "I saw him, Ron. I heard him."   
  
"But you've been sick since you came back. How do we know you've not dreamed this, made it up?"   
  
"Because I haven't! Ron, it was him! Ask Professor Snape!"   
  
Ron looked at her, disbelievingly. "Snape? Why the hell would I talk to him about this? I still don't know why Dumbledore trusts him! It was probably him in the first place."   
  
"Listen to yourself!" Hermione cursed herself for letting her voice become so sharp. "He saved me! If I wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here right now!"   
Her face came closer to Ron's. "It was Charlie, Ron! Don't believe me if you don't want to, but please just listen to me!"   
  
Ron's face was slack.   
  
"I can't," he replied quietly. "I can't listen to this." Refusing to look back at her, he walked out, his expression clouded with confusion and doubt.   
  
Instead of seeing Harry, Albus Dumbledore smiled gravely at him outside.   
  
"Perhaps we need to have a little discussion, Mr. Weasley?"   
  
Ron nodded numbly and followed his Headmaster down the corridor.   
  
  
  
  
After Ron's departure, Hermione sat, despondent, staring at the wall. How could she have told him like that? She knew she should have left it to Dumbledore, or someone else. She couldn't forget the look on his face.   
  
That wasn't what hurt her the most. She understood that he would be sceptical at first, even angry, but the fact that he completely disbelieved her, threw her.   
  
Hot tears filled her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling and tried vainly to blink away the tears, only to allow them passage to slip down her cheeks.   
  
Footsteps by her bed caused her to hastily wipe them away.   
  
"You're awake," the visitor noted.   
  
Being brave enough to face them, she lowered her head.   
  
"Professor Snape."   
  
The Potions Master nodded at her. "I'm glad to see you're recovering. A few more days and you should feel well enough to return to class." Ebony eyes met chocolate ones. Hermione felt a strange rush of emotions rising to the surface as he turned to leave.   
  
"Please," she whispered. "Stay with me?"   
  
If she was not mistaken, Snape hesitated. She had rarely seen a moment of uncertainty in his composure. She didn't think that he paused because he didn't want to stay with her; it was more of a conflict of conscience.   
  
"Please," she said again. She knew he was the one person who wouldn't push her, wouldn't disbelieve her. So why was it that she now felt the tears stinging her eyelids again? She looked at him miserably as her eyelashes glistened, threatening another downpour.   
  
She felt the mattress sink slightly. The storm inside of her appeased slightly, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the headboard.   
  
Minutes passed before he spoke.   
  
"Dumbledore is speaking with him. Don't agonize about it. He had to know."   
  
A hand gently rubbed her forehead in soothing circles. Before she was lulled to sleep, he heard her say, "You're the only one…" But the conclusion to that sentence was never heard. The strangest thing was that he felt himself longing to hear it.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ron's eyes were fixed on the desk in front of him and the candy dish he had been offered was left untouched.   
  
Dumbledore watched the red-haired boy as the realisation of who his brother really was sank in.   
  
"He has been taken to Azkaban, Ron. It may be possible for your father to arrange a visit. Perhaps to answer some of the questions I cannot."   
  
Ron's eyes came to meet his. "Mum…Dad…do they know?"   
  
The wizened Headmaster shook his head. "They have recently been owled. We thought it would be easier to tell them once the chaos at the Ministry has died down. Your father has been given a few days off, of course. He thinks it was an overdue holiday."   
  
"However, I don't regret you being told now. But I think Miss. Granger telling you wasn't exactly the best idea. Your reaction did rather upset her, but of course she is more concerned for you than herself."   
  
A tinge of guilt appeared on Ron's cheeks. "Hermione…" He stood up. "I should apologise to her. I really was awful."   
  
Dumbledore gestured for him to sit down again. "I'm sure she understands. Besides, Professor Snape is with her for the moment."   
  
"Sna-?" began Ron, but was abruptly cut off by the door flying open.   
  
"I tried to tell them you were busy, Albus, but they insisted."   
  
'They' were the Weasley twins. An out-of-breath Fred and George entered behind a very flustered Professor McGonagall.   
  
Dismissing her at once, they quickly went to Dumbledore.   
  
"What's this about Charlie?"   
  
"We were at the Ministry to see Dad-"   
  
"Heard Shacklebolt saying something about Charlie-"   
  
"And Hermione-"   
  
"The Shrieking Shack-"   
  
"What's happened?" finished George.   
  
On cue, two heads appeared in the fireplace, belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley looked quite jovial at the sight of several family members in Dumbledore's office.   
  
"What's going on here? Family reunion?" He looked surprised when three faces turned grave. Fred and George, although still rather bemused, grinned at their father and mother.   
  
"If you want to take Ron and the twins back to the Burrow, I'll join you shortly," said Dumbledore. He turned to McGonagall. "Could you please find Miss. Weasley? Oh, and Mr. Potter as well."   
  
Professor McGonagall left quickly. Dumbledore spoke to Ron. "Return with your parents, but please wait until I get there."   
  
Ron nodded, his face pale. "Come on," he said to his family and taking a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fireplace and disappeared. His mystified parents and the twins followed him.   
  
  
  
  
  
When Severus finally left Hermione, satisfied she was sleeping and at peace, even if it was temporary, watched as a solemn McGonagall led the Weasley girl and Potter up to the Headmaster's office. He knew what it was all about, and after nodding to the Gryffindors, left the warmth of the upper floors and descended to his dungeon rooms.   
  
He pulled a heavy Muggle volume off his bookshelf, sat himself down and proceeded to turn the pages, occasionally sipping at his snifter of brandy for about fifteen minutes before coming to the conclusion that he wasn't taking anything in.   
  
He rested his head in his hands and thought about all that had happened. He had never quite liked Charlie Weasley, but still his Death-Eater alter ego had thrown him. Severus knew that the Weasley family would be sitting in shock at this moment. Molly Weasley would be sniffing and holding a tissue, her husband pacing the floor and expressing incredulity, Ginny crying while Ron held an arm around her and the twins sitting in quiet disbelief. Dumbledore, all the while looking on, in silent sympathy.   
  
His thoughts soon turned to somebody else. Hermione. Sighing in exasperation, he stood up and carried the empty brandy glass across to the sink and rinsed it out.   
  
It had started with an honest, and quite new feeling of wanting to help someone. Mostly because that dark area she had sunk into, was one he had experienced firsthand himself. But something new has happened to him. Something that made his insides churn when he looked at her, looked into the deep pools of her eyes.   
He cursed himself for admitting it, but this feeling was not just concern. It was more than that.   
  
He feared that should he get any closer to her, his restraint would not hold. What was more, he didn't want it to. Even greater that, was the feeling that she didn't see him for more than she had ever done before. Against his will, this fear twisted him inside.


	13. Evasion

**A/N:** First of all, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've had a hectic few weeks here in RL. And when I say hectic- imagine it written in huge red letters and exclamation marks anywhere you want them. Also, there are 5 chapters of my most recent story up and I'm working on another one as well. Thank you for all the reviews I got for my last chapter- 22 more! It means a lot that you like it.

Thanks go to my beta, **Angel** and she's given me some helpful ideas for Chapter 14, so fingers crossed, that will be written soon. Please review if you like this. 

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**13. Evasion**

When Hermione left the infirmary, three days later, she entered the Great Hall for breakfast quite alone. Ignoring curious looks sent at her from most of the inhabitants of the Gryffindor table, she sat in her usual place, and poured herself a goblet of orange juice.

Ron, she'd been told, was still at the Burrow with his family. On his visit, the previous day, Dumbledore had assured her that she was not to blame for his reaction, and that she should concentrate on getting herself back to her usual lessons and school life.

Surprisingly, Harry was nowhere to be seen either. She'd expected him to return from the Weasley's, although Ron hadn't. So, silently, she drank from the goblet and kept her eyes on the wizarding magazine that had arrived before she had.

The first lesson of the day, Arithmancy, was reasonably uneventful. Ernie MacMillan, her desk partner, barely said two words to her, except, "Did Vector say page 21, or 22?"

"22," she'd replied quietly, before continuing with the translation, rather suspecting that he'd been warned not to ask her anything. Shame, really, Ernie was a good friend, although they didn't see each other that much. He was tactful when he needed to be.

After lunch, her heart lightened considerably, when she realised it was Double Potions next. Carrying her books as she made her way down the dungeon steps, she shivered in the usual chill. She felt strangely conspicuous, in light of her ordeal and the fact that the only other two Gryffindors with her, Erica and Dean were throwing nervous looks at her and overcompensating smiles.

When a voice from inside the dungeons told them to 'enter,' Hermione suddenly felt more peaceful than she had all day. That voice…the one who'd sent her to sleep just days before, the voice that had calmed her. Abruptly, Hermione couldn't imagine why she had ever feared it.

The class filed in and took their usual places. Bags opened and closed, parchment rustled and quills were placed on desks.

Professor Snape waited impatiently at the front as they sat down and took out their belongings. He threw a contemptuous look at Susan Bones when she opened the door and attempted to slip through and to her seat unnoticed.

"Miss. Bones…were you planning to explain your lateness? Or simply disrupt the lesson and forgo an apology?"

Susan looked everywhere but at him. "I left a book in the common room…I had to go back for it."

"Five points for wasting my breath. Now sit down, girl."

Susan walked to her seat quickly and exchanged a look with Erica, who sat next to her.

After glancing over the class, strangely avoiding Hermione's eyes, she noticed, Snape began the lesson.

"Last week I outlined the making of Doxycide. Since I rather believe you're inclined to forget it and cause damage to yourself and my classroom without refreshing your memories about it's making, the process," he gestured towards the blackboard with his wand, "Is listed here. Partner work is acceptable."

Choosing to work on her own, Hermione began to gather the ingredients she needed. She didn't need to look at the board for instruction; she'd read the making of it in her Potions textbook enough times. She perused the set of venoms left on the desk at the front thoughtfully Her first choice, an element Basilisk venom was obviously not available, and so she decided to try Amadán faerie blood. She poured a tiny amount into a cylinder and diluted it heavily. She noticed a few members of the class trying Wyvern talons. She watched sceptically, wondering if Snape has set a trap for them, as Wyvern talons were very similar to eagles.

She looked up at Snape for a minute. He was watching Dean, who was staring at the board in confusion, frowning. He then lowered his head, taking out a quill to write upon a sheet of parchment. Hermione could have sworn his eyes flickered to hers momentarily, but he gave no sign of noticing her.

She was confused. Surely after everything that had happened, he would give at least recognition to her, if nothing else. Her brow still furrowed, she turned to her cauldron and started the potion.

Severus watched her discreetly from his desk as she cleaned out her cauldron and put all her remaining ingredients away. Gods, why did she have to be so accurate and gracefully painstaking in her work? It would be so much easier to criticize her for carelessness. Not even Longbottom was in his classes anymore for her to assist, so he could chastise her for it.

Noting the time, he stood up. "If you have bottled your Doxycide, bring it to my desk for testing. If you haven't, you know how your current status in my class stands. _Evanesco," _he said, waving his wand quickly, causing the liquid in each cauldron to disappear. There was a muffled sound of protest at the back. Dominic Syelle was staring into his now empty cauldron, looking horrified.

"In future, Mr. Syelle, I suggest you spend more time checking the time than conversing," the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked at each other gleefully. Although Snape still favoured his own house, it proved that when it came to N.E.W.T Potions classes, he wasn't so lenient. "Besides, if you had finished, you would have failed anyway. If you had looked at your 'Wyvern talons' a little more carefully you would have noticed they weren't what the label on the jar stated."  The sneaky grins on many faces dropped. Snape picked one up, and held it between his finger and thumb, studying it. 

"A Wyvern talon is slightly more arched at the tip, while an eagle talon is rather tapered. There was one ingredient available to you which was genuine and effective."

He lifted his head, sneering. "So if _anyone _feels they have actually used the correct ingredients, you may bring them to me to be tested."

Only Hermione and Terry Boot approached Snape's desk. Before addressing them, Snape spoke to the class. "For next lesson I want four feet of parchment on the reasons for the difference between Wyvern and eagle talons." Dismissing them, he opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a black bag from which came an angry buzzing sound.

"I am going to release one Doxy from this bag. Mr. Boot, if you squirt it once with your Doxycide and we shall see if it is effective. If not, I suggest you hurry to Madam Pomfrey."

Terry nodded and gripped his spray bottle more tightly than necessary. Snape quickly opened the bag and pulled it shut again as a small Doxy flew straight at Terry. Terry pointed the bottle at him and a tiny jet of black, murky liquid shot at the buzzing creature. It dropped onto the desk, motionless. Snape noted something down.

"You may go, at least you've improved from last week's performance." Terry went slightly red at the memory of what Snape was referring to. Hermione frowned at Snape's unfairness- Terry had done good work, what was the harm in telling him so without adding a mocking undertone?

Terry picked up his bag and left the room with the rest of the class, throwing a sympathetic glance at Hermione as he went.

"Have you got your spray bottle, Miss Granger?"

"Yes."

"Again, I am releasing one Doxy." She noticed that he was avoiding her eyes again, and found that she was quite annoyed with it.

Hermione easily passed his test and when he waved his hand for her to go, she remained by his desk.

Eventually, he did acknowledge her, but didn't look at her. "What is it, Miss. Granger?" he said, while still writing.

"Why won't you look at me?"

This seemed to jerk him out of his ignorance of her. He hadn't expected her to be so outright. This time, he did raise his head, and meet her eyes. Her voice had been shaky but her eyes didn't betray her intent to find out the answer.

"I was under the impression that this is, what one would call 'looking."

Disconcerted, she cast her eyes at the dungeon floor. "I just thought…thought after…"

"Please say what you intend to and don't babble so." He hated the words the instant they left his lips.

"I don't understand. I thought after what happened…you'd be different."

"I see," he said, dropping the quill onto the desk and folding his arms. He suddenly laughed and she looked up, as though scared at the unexpected reaction.

"You think you're different? You think that out of everything that has happened to me because of the position I was once in, you should stand out?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to run from the room. Why had she asked him? Why could she not have just left it, as it was, no matter how much was left unresolved?

"You were merely a hindrance and a dangerous one at that. I could have got myself killed, and if you had died because I felt it unwise to go to your side, all fingers would have been pointed at me!" He was standing now, his eyes glinting with anger. Hermione felt her eyes glisten. Snape sneered at her.

"Typical of a Gryffindor. Don't you understand? I didn't save you because I wanted you to live or because of some feeble 'alliance' you might have felt we had. I did it so the blame wouldn't be placed on me yet again." 

He walked around the table and brought his face down so close to hers, they were nearly touching.

"You're yet another annoyance in my already tedious life. Now, get out of my sight."

Hermione didn't need to hear any more from him. Her face stricken, with tears threatening to fall, she fled from the room. 

Severus watched her go with a heavy heart. He hated himself for every unkind words, every cruel glance he'd given her. In frustration, he brought a fist down onto the desk, and in disgust realised he'd squashed an unfortunate, knocked-out Doxy.

But still, he knew it had to be done. By this time tomorrow, if he predicted correctly, she would hate him once again. And that was how it should be.


	14. Hurt

**A/N: **Yes, I know you're all fainting in shock that I actually updated this. Hopefully in happy shock…*silence* I'm sorry, but I needed a little break from it and I've been penning a couple of others at the same time. Also, my life keeps getting busier. I have my mock G.C.S.E's exams next week, so wish me luck. If you do, I promise I'll write as much as I can during the Christmas holidays. Thanks go to **Angel** for beta-ing this- I now have some perspective on where this is going. I was kind of worried about advancing the time period, etc. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate it! While waiting for updates on this, why not check out my newest fic Anam Cara…? Hey, a little self-promotion never hurt nobody…

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**14. Hurt **

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Hermione ran, her footsteps echoing loudly across the stone. Feeling like this, she couldn't possibly get to Gryffindor Tower any quicker. Eventually, she saw the stairs leading to the portrait hole and raced up them. When she reached the top, she crashed into someone else. 

Harry jumped around and then smiled weakly at Hermione. She could tell his heart was not in it. "Hi," he said softly. "I just got back. From Ron's," he added, as if it were not already clear enough to her. 

Hermione stared back at him; the look on his face made it all too clear what he had been thinking about before she had disturbed him. Everything came rushing back to her and she promptly burst into fresh tears. Turning her face away from him, she told the Fat Lady the password through her sobs and climbed through the portrait hole. She half-ran through the common room, ignoring the puzzled looks thrown at her and dashed up the stairs leading to the girl's dormitories, making sure to cast an extra strong locking spell on the door before she slammed it shut behind her. 

Ron Weasley had never felt so strange in his life. He was numb. The last few days, he'd been sitting at home; listening to his mother crying and seeing his father trying to keep the family together, with the same confused and hurt expression in his eyes. 

It had all been a blur; Hermione arriving in the arms of Snape, of all people, insisting that it was Charlie who'd taken her, Dumbledore sending him home with the rest of his family and breaking the news to them and now this. 

Charlie had been sent to Azkaban. It was to be expected of course. He had been revealed as a Death-Eater, a follower of a Dark Lord past. No other punishment would be accepted in the wizarding world.

The main root of fear had always been the Dementors; unsettling, hooded unmasked creatures, hungry for the souls of the living. It had been long feared by most that Voldemort's most volatile alliances were in control of the place that kept the magical society's worst criminals in captivity.

Dumbledore had patiently repeated this warning to Fudge many a time, but went unheeded. One of Fudge's worst mistakes was revealed in Ron's fifth year- a mass breakout of Azkaban prison, allowing Death-Eaters to roam free.

Little more than a year later, the Dementors had revolted. Villagers in the vicinity of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade had awoken horrified to find strange, animate shadows gliding ghost-like through their streets and homes, unrestrained and unchecked. Ministry wizards capable of producing corporeal and effective Patronuses were stationed in every area of alarm, but that did little. The Dark Lord had achieved his aim. Many were constricted by fear and ran from their homes to find safety.

After the war, Dementors were banished from Azkaban and placed somewhere they could do no harm any more. Where? The Ministry kept that a heavily guarded secret. Only the most tight-lipped of Unspeakables knew the answer.

Although he was glad the Dementors were nowhere to be seen, Ron shivered in the closeness to their successors. 

The Erinyes, sometimes called the Furies, or the Three.

At the entrance of the wizard gaol, stood three figures, all bearing writhing pythons for hair, the facial features of a hound and the fluttering wings of the bat.

Sometimes he wondered if the Dementors would have had a more desirable appearance underneath their robes than these creatures. But still, he would have taken the Erinyes over the last guards. They did not fill him with chilling fear, just a strange sense of foreboding, with their black eyes examining him closely.

Most simply called them the Three, living by the old superstition that it was bad luck to call them by their real name. As Arthur Weasley led his family towards the great gates, he nodded to the one who stood nearest. 

"Charlie Weasley," he said clearly, attempting not to break eye contact. "Cell 14B."

She surveyed them all, her obsidian eyes sliding from each one of the family, before stepping aside and allowing the gates to swing open. As they passed, the whip at her side curled slightly, but made no move to lash at their skin. Ron had no question as to what it was for. The Furies were created to pursue the guilty and punish them for their sins. It was their only purpose in life, and a purpose they served well. 

Eventually, her sobs began to ease and Hermione simply sat rigid against her pillows, her knees pulled up to her chest. His words still stung. It was strange how much they'd affected her. Of course she'd expected him not to be overly friendly, but his behaviour, his…_callousness _had stunned her. Was she still just a silly schoolgirl to him? Was she a fool to think that he had changed his attitude towards her? After all, he had called her 'yet another annoyance in his already tedious life.' How was she expected to meet his eyes in Potions or anywhere else again after his harsh, cutting words?

She wasn't hurt because of what he'd said exactly. Hermione just wondered what had happened to his promises of helping her? The support he was to try and provide? She sunk back, her eyes closed. With the chaos of the last few days, those memories had slid to the back of her mind. Now, they resurfaced, to plague her again.

Opening her eyes, she looked over to the letter on the small mahogany bureau under the windowsill. Out of the five Gryffindor seventh-years, she was the only one to have a little desk to herself. Callie's and Erica's was adorned with photos; mostly of past holidays (the two girls families were very close and spent many summers and Christmases together), letters and the odd quill, lip gloss or hairbrush. Parvati's and Lavender's naturally served as a dressing table rather than a desk and they had charmed the drawer space to hold more beauty and fashion magazines than was naturally possible.

Upon Hermione's desktop however, was a neat stack of books and a single letter. Curious, as she hadn't seen it arrive, she got up and crossed over to the table to pick it up. Her mother's neat, precise handwriting was displayed on the envelope. Before, she would have groaned, knowing exactly some of the things her mother would have to say this time. Now though, she was just happy to see something familiar, something that reminded her of home. She was surprised at how much she missed it at times. Hermione tore open the envelope unceremoniously, letting it flutter to the floor, and sat back down on the bed to read it, gently stroking a purring Crookshanks at the foot of the bed as she did so. 

_Dear Hermione, _

_It's been a while since we've heard from you, dear. I hope that our last letter got to you- I've always wondered about the reliability of your postal service. (Hermione rolled her eyes.) _

_We're writing mostly to know in advance what your plans are for Christmas? We'd very much like to see you for the holidays as you'll certainly be off at University next year, normal or wizarding, and we doubt you'll visit home very often. Of course, we understand if you want to stay at Hogwarts with your friends Harry and Ronald. _

_Another reason we'd like you to come home is that we have invited Aunt Theresa and Uncle Jamie to come down from Cardiff to stay. Needless to say, your cousin is still missing, the investigation seems to be having no luck at all and we wouldn't want them to have spent their first Christmas without her (as it looks most likely) all alone. _

_Please write soon. We miss you and we need to make some plans about your future after Hogwarts. _

_Love, _

_Mum and Dad. _

Hermione sighed. Though she knew the holidays would most likely be filled with 'meaningful' discussions about her future and her parents less than subtle hints about attending a Muggle University, she wanted to go home.

But then there was the situation with Aunt Theresa and Uncle Jamie. It killed her to know that she had witnessed their small daughter die at the hands of Voldemort, which was, of course, something she could never reveal to them. She wished she could do something to ease their pain- they were under the terrible impression that their daughter had been abducted.

Adding to the sting was her reason for not telling her parents. Under no circumstances would Hermione reveal that she had been involved in a dark war with Voldemort and his followers, the Ministry and the Order. They would have been horrified and she wouldn't have seen Hogwarts again, that was for sure.

But to tell them what had happened to Chloe…no matter what Snape had told her about it not being her fault…she felt a little selfish, but she didn't think she could bear the questions, the concern, the aghast reactions of her mother and father. And to tell them why the Dark Lord had taken her tiny cousin for a deadly ultimatum…Hermione shook her head. She would just have to stay silent.

Crossing again over to the desk, she picked up a spare quill and scribbled an answer. 

_Dear Mum and Dad, _

_I'll be glad to come home for Christmas. I hope Aunt and Uncle are coping as best they can and please give them my love when you speak to them next as Christmas is quite a way off yet. _

_Everything's fine here and I'll write as soon as I have any news. There's a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin coming up soon. I wouldn't normally be excited, but as Harry and Ron put it, it's our 'last chance' to win the House Cup again, so I'll let myself be swayed. I'll tell you how it goes. _

_Write soon, _

_Hermione._

Hermione rolled up the parchment, sealed it, and put it aside for later. She could take it to the Owlery the next morning. As she settled back onto her quilt, lying backwards to stare at the red canopy over her four-poster, thought swirling in her mind, there came a furtive knock at the door. Hermione remained silent, wordlessly urging them to go away.

"Hermione?" Callie's muffled voice came though the door.

Parvati spoke next. "Are you okay? Harry and a couple of third years said you came upstairs looking a bit upset. You missed dinner too but we thought it'd be best to leave you alone..." 

"He'd come upstairs himself but you know what always happens. Besides, he doesn't look too good either." 

Loud footsteps clunked up the stairs, and Lavender, who obviously wasn't clued in asked loudly, "What's going on?" only to be immediately shushed by the other two. 

There was another knock. "You have to tell us what happened at some point. Come on, Hermione, let us in!" The doorknob rattled uselessly.

Hermione turned on her side and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She muttered the words to unlock the door and pretended not to stir when the three girls came in. They proceeded to talk in whispers about her, and covered her up with a blanket before heading to the common room to do some last minute homework.

By the time they'd gone, Hermione had actually dropped off by accident, and gently dozed until morning light finally awoke her, making graceful patterns as it's calm glow danced across her pale skin.


	15. Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

**A/N:** There's nothing more I can say than how very, very sorry I am for taking so long to update. I gave myself a mental slap for being lazy and I actually promise to work on the next chapter tonight. Hope you enjoy this, and don't worry, Hermione won't hate him forever J Nope, couldn't allow that… Thanks, as always to beta **Angel **when I repost this. Decided not to wait as I'd already left it so long. The lyrics found scattered here are parts of a song called 'Don't Leave Home' by Dido. I know, I use her lyrics a lot but she serves as inspiration when I have writers block quite often.

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**15. Some Things are Better Left Unsaid**

Five days later, Ron returned to Hogwarts, looking worse for wear; no doubt a result of his unpleasant trip to Azkaban. Hermione and Harry had been engaged in Herbology homework when he arrived.

Hermione had just been finishing her essay potion of the work when Harry did a last pencil stroke with a grand flourish.

"There," he said, proudly. "Done at last."

Hermione looked over at his parchment and visibly winced.

"What?" asked Harry, sounding offended.

Like a ghost, don't need a key 

_Your best friend I've come to be_

_Please don't think of getting up for me_

You don't even need to speak 

"It's just…Harry, you've gone and drawn Flea-Wort instead of Rupture Wort…and when you look at it from this angle," she shifted it to the left and tilted her head, "It doesn't even look like either, never mind a plant…" She raised her eyebrows to show her meaning and he turned the parchment like she'd said. He began to laugh. It wasn't a flattering sketch.

"Good job you spotted it, Hermione. My grade's dropped enough already after last year without adding to it."

Tiredly, he took out his eraser and started to rub out the aberrant diagram. Hermione watched him, amused, before taking out her wand and pulling the parchment from him. She muttered a quick "_Evanesco," _and whipped her own pencil out to begin drawing it again for him.

Harry smiled gratefully, but with a tinge of guilt. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

She shook her head, already absorbed. "Takes my mind off things. I'm finished anyway. Just make sure you get your Transfiguration done and that you know this by N.E.W.T's."

"Thanks." After hesitating for a moment, he leaned forward for a moment to give her a warm hug. Hermione, surprised, hugged him back.

"Since when do I get hugs in exchange for doing your homework?"

"It's not just that…I just, well, want you to know I'm here for you that's all, okay?"

Hermione pulled away, smiling slightly. "…I know"

She went back to the parchment and Harry started to thumb through his battered Transfiguration textbook.

A slamming noise startled them from their homework. Both turned around abruptly.

Ron stood by the now closed portrait hole. His face was pale, set strangely by his ever-flaming hair, but still looked like thunder.

All three remained still for a few moments, unsure of what to say or do. Ron's eyes refused to meet Hermione's and he seemed to stare right through her. Hating the silence, se began to speak first. "Ron-"

At the sound of her voice however, Ron looked straight at her, giving her a pure look of venom. Hermione was stunned. He'd never looked at her like that before, not even during one of their most blazing rows. The shock cut through her like a sharp knife, catching her off-guard and hurt.

Harry had just got to his feet, also looking confused, when Ron turned on his heel and stalked away upstairs, his unnecessarily loud footsteps echoing off the walls of the common room.

Harry sunk back into his chair and then rose again, a conflicted expression on his face. He wasn't sure whether he should go to see if Ron was okay, after all, he'd gone through a lot in the past week and was bound to be a little unbalanced. However, he'd caught that hateful look that had been so harshly thrown at the girl next to him and knew it was totally unfair for Ron to treat Hermione like that so irrationally.

"Maybe I should-" he began, sounding helpless. He glanced down at best friend sat next to him for her opinion and was immediately concerned. Hermione's eyes were fixed upon the table, unmoving and glistening.

"Hermione?"

She started to shake her head, still staring at the grain patterns in the wood, but then her shoulders began to quiver. "Harry, please just…I can't…I don't…" She got up to leave the room but the word jarred in her throat and she burst into tears.

And if you're cold, I'll keep you warm 

_If you're low, just hold on_

_'Cause I will be your safety_

Feeling awkward, Harry began to pat her shoulder, in what he thought was a comforting manner and then thought better of it, pulling her into another close hug. Crying unrestrainedly now into his jumper, Hermione was just glad that it was late and the other members of the House were nowhere to be seen. Once she'd calmed down a bit, she raised her head to look at him as he cleared his throat.

"I know Ron and what happened up at the Shrieking Shack aren't exactly helping you right now, but I get the feeling that there's a lot more going on than that. Am I wrong?"

Hermione shook her head. "No." Gods, she hated this. What had happened to her self-control and composure? She chose to not quite meet his eyes.

Harry sighed. "Do you want to tell me?" He seemed to already know the answer.

Hermione froze. Harry was already preoccupied with Ron and Charlie's frightening change of loyalties. She couldn't unleash all her troubles on him now. It wasn't fair.

She gently shook her head and said "No," again, but mentally thanked him for asking in the first place.

Harry nodded, not quite satisfied but unwilling to push.

That little voice inside her told Hermione that she really wasn't telling Harry because she was afraid, perhaps unreasonably, of his reaction to what had happened to Chloe.

And I arrived when you were weak 

_I'll make you weaker, like a child_

_Now all your love you give to me_

_When your heart is all I need_

"Harry?" she asked, once she'd dried her tears and finally pulled away. "Can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry frowned "Why?"

"I just want to go for a walk, clear my head."

The cleft in his forehead deepened. "Do you want me to go with you?"

She shook her head. "I think I need to be alone for a bit."

At the word 'alone', Harry became worried further. "Alone? Look, Hermione-"

She let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Oh, come on Harry. What, do you think I'm going to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower or something?"

"I wasn't even thinking that!" protested Harry, but he looked sheepish.

"Please Harry?"

He exhaled noisily but went up to his dormitory and returned holding the shimmering material.

"Thanks," she whispered, and tried to smile at him. "Now get your homework done and go to bed. Don't wait up for me."

Hermione turned and pushed open the portrait hole. It swung outwards with a click. Harry still felt concerned but went back to the table to continue his homework with an unconcealed yawn.

Outside the Gryffindor common room, Hermione slipped the cloak over her head, enjoying the sense of freedom that filled her immediately. Starting down the steps of the tower, she headed to her destination. She had lied to Harry. Well, sort of. She was going to the Astronomy Tower, but not to top herself, she thought, shaking her head at Harry's overdone anxiety. That was a little histrionic, even in the whirlwind of emotions that she felt herself swept up in.

In the dungeons, somebody else had stirred. Severus was pacing his chambers feeling unsettled and restless, but not quite sure why. He'd tried to occupy himself with a book and some marking but it hadn't done the trick. Deciding it was impossible to return to slumber, he dressed and left his room, throwing on his standard black cloak as he went. He wasn't on patrol tonight, but that in no way meant he couldn't take a little stroll just to clear his head.

Oh how quiet, quiet the world can be 

_When it's just you and little me_

_Everything is clear, everything is new_

_So you won't be leaving, will you?_


	16. Bottled Up

**A/N:** Although this isn't as long as I hoped, I know you'll agree that it is significantly quicker than the last two. Hurray, I have my inspiration back. Please be aware that I've been having some technical problems, which restrict me from being able to do this as much. I'm still here though, and I promise to update everything whenever possible. Thanks to beta **Angel **and I hope you enjoy.

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**16. Bottled Up**

When she arrived at the door of the Astronomy Tower, slightly out of breath from the long climb, she turned the handle cautiously. The room at the top of the tower (classes were more often held in the ancient parapet above) was a notorious 'secret' meeting place for couples and she certainly was in no mood to walk in on a tryst tonight.

Thankfully, no one was inside tonight. A chilly wind drifted through the window into the vacant room, making a haunting whisper reverberate from the grey walls. Darkness enveloped her, the occasional beam of light dancing away. Hermione shivered and pulled her school robes closer around her as she took slow steps across the room, an unnervingly loud clacking noise coming from her black school shoes.

Staring out across the grounds in a shadowed corner of the tower, Hermione knelt down and leant on the broad window ledge with her elbows, breathing in the night air deeply. In the distance the warm glow from the lamp that hung over Hagrid's doorstep wavered as the icy breeze blew, scattering leaves across the rustling grass. She could hear a dull buzzing in the distance. The hive of Glumbumbles was still alive and well, thriving since being placed by a bed of Fluxweed choked by a particularly barbed breed of nettle. She jumped a little when she heard a creak come from Hagrid's hut and a large form emerge from the doorway, but then realised it was just the half-giant going to close the hive for the night. The Glumbumbles had an annoying tendency to fly away at dawn's first light if the could, and he still had more classes to teach on their handling and habits.

The lamp outside dimmed and Hagrid's door slammed shut.

Closing her eyes, Hermione turned and slid slowly down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. Her thoughts began to twist into more unpleasant ones and she lowered her head, balling her hands into fists. This wasn't fair. She'd done everything that was expected of her, fought alongside the Order to ensure their survival, endured having to come face to face with Voldemort and although it seemed trivial in comparison, been a responsible student, a good friend and kept on top of her work.

Having to refuse the position of Head Girl, which she'd coveted since first year had been a wrench and seeing Hannah Abbot don the badge made it even worse. Bottling up her feelings since last summer took no small effort, more than she could have known and taking on more responsibility would have shattered her completely, if this was the state she was in now. Everything had been dredged to the surface.

Telling herself that it was far too late to be sitting in a draughty tower in the dead of night and that Harry, against her wishes, would be sitting up awaiting her return, she knew she ought to stand now, take one last look out of the window, gather her robes about her and head straight back to the opposite tower. But that meant suppressing everything again and somehow, in her mind that became more painful than having it fresh, in her every thought and waking dream.

Outside the castle, he could hear a harsh wind building up; ready to thrash the wall, trying to wake every sleeping body within with its icy gusts. Though he thought it unlikely that many of his own House students would arise. They slept too soundly for that, he suspected.

Severus Snape's loud footsteps echoed eerily across the stone but kept him company. Normally he relished the chance to come across wandering students out of bed and cut down House points but tonight…there was an odd feeling resting on his shoulders. It didn't seem to want to let him alone and he was forced to wander the corridors himself, hoping to tire it out of him, allowing him back to an uneasy sleep, at least.

Just as he was thinking he was truly alone out of his chambers tonight, he heard a snickering noise down the hall. Paces quickening, he gave the nearest door a rough push.

It didn't open. Frowning, he tried an _'Alohomora'_ but the door blatantly ignored his impatience. With a stab of annoyance, he brandished his wand at it again, determined that it was the only thing he did tonight, it would be to defeat this stubborn door.

_"Apenta Kravus!"_

The door flew open at once, and Severus inadvertently groaned.

"You!"

'You' turned out to a very roguish looking Peeves, eagerly filling the ceiling lamps with ink and unscrewing them so they would easily fall at any time, over the unlucky person who tried to light them. He turned and gave the Slytherin an impish grin.

"Evenin' Professor." He went back to creating havoc regardless of Snape's black frame of mind.

"I am not in the mood for this Peeves. In fact, I'd much prefer it if you could just slip out of this life for one night."

An annoying snigger came from the poltergeist. "Ha. I'm afraid I'm going to have to plague you a little longer…_Snivellus."  _Laughing madly, he soared over Severus, who looked ready to cast an Unforgivable at Peeves' name-calling, and poured what was remaining of the violet ink over him. "Don't worry, Greasylocks, you'll see me later. Or perhaps you should worry!" 

Cursing the spirit to hell, Severus cast a quick '_Scourgify' _and charged down the hall, looking fit to roar at the next unfortunate person or for that case, ghost, to cross his path. He knew exactly who he was looking for. Robes billowing, he entered the shadowy door next to the Trophy Room.

The Bloody Baron, despite his formidable appearance, did not possess a particularly vengeful or angry quality. He wasn't too happy either. Centuries ago, in this very castle, he'd been left alone and unloved, destined to live out the rest of his miserable life there. Apparently he'd caught a terrible illness and succumbed to it willingly, the marks upon his tunic suggested otherwise, but many suggested he'd passed because there was nothing left for him in the mortal world. 

Severus often thought that was possibly true, though the Baron rarely talked about his life. He was most often silent and staring, but he knew more about the school and it's inhabitants than he let on. There was a strange hint of omniscience in his grey skin and curiously red eyes that most likely matched the stains on his aged clothes.

"Just the per- ghost I wanted to see, Baron." The ghost who had been drifting along one wall solemnly, revolved round to face him.

"Indeed Severus. Why is that?"

Severus sighed. "Take a guess."

The once grave ghost rolled his eyes. "I should have known. Any particular troubles this evening?"

"He's just up to his old tricks. I thought the last Ghost's Council settled this?"

"I had hoped so too. Salazar, Myrtle, Elizabeth the Grey and Sir Nicholas, strangely enough, completely agreed with me. But you know how the Friar is. All for giving undeserved chances. Along with that new Slytherin ghost. Short girl, red hair. Being murdered by a Death-Eater seems to have changed her Pureblood tune. She's all about 'fairness' and 'equality' now." His face screwed up in an ugly sneer. "Not that I'm a prejudiced sort of spirit, Severus, but Peeves should have been sent to Hades the second he passed."

"He is a trial," Severus answered, knowing full well how much of an understatement he had just uttered. The Baron snorted and then appeared to exhale noisily.

"I'll get to it then. Frighten that damned poltergeist into giving you some peace for a few nights, shall I?"

Severus smiled. "That would be satisfactory for now." The Bloody Baron nodded and drifted through one of the walls. Moments later, the Potions Master heard a booming voice that would have scared anyone if they hadn't been expecting it, never mind Peeves. Smirking, he left the room and carried on walking the castle.

Sooner or later, he'd known he would reach it. The Astronomy Tower. Lips in a thin line, he set up the stairs, his steps purposely quiet. He realised that was pointless when he saw who was already up there.

Though she was cold and shivering, Hermione was drowsy and soon felt her eyelids begin to droop. Too tired to argue with her body, she began to give in and rested her head against her knees willingly. The sharp noise of footsteps jerked it back up however and with a strange bust of fear she pulled herself closer o the wall, into the shadows.

She hoped against hope it wasn't a teacher or a Prefect. Either the Head Boy or Girl she could handle; both of them knew she'd been on the first choice list and most likely wouldn't question her about her strange choice of location. 

Realising it could actually be one of the couples she'd hoped not to interrupt, Hermione began to shift uneasily. She really didn't need a show of affection right now.

The footsteps stopped and the door swung open. Hermione nearly breathed a sigh of relief but clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

A pair of telltale black, high heeled boots came into sight, followed by a dark plum coloured cloak.

Professor Sinistra. She should have known. The Astronomy teacher had informed the class that she would be making a check on the telescopes they left set up on the constellation they were studying tonight. One of the planets orbiting by this particular collection of stars was soon going to move out of alignment and since they didn't have a lesson that day, it was important she kept track of its path.

Hermione watched, unmoving, as the boots crossed over to one of the telescopes, and then another. The tall woman made a murmur of approval about something and took out the star chart and quill she'd been carrying.

Both Professor Sinistra and Hermione jumped in shock when the door swung open for a second time. Hermione felt her heart plummet at the voice that greeted them.

"Ursa."

"Oh! Good evening Severus."

Silence. Both Professors stood in awkward silence. It was obvious that neither was comfortable with each other. Hermione barely recalled her Potions Master speaking with the elusive Astronomy professor before. She did sense though, that this wasn't the kind of person Snape would try to tick off with sarcasm. Professor Sinistra, while a rewarding, intelligent and kind Professor, gave off an air of someone who always had her cards hidden up her sleeve. She was very perceptive and knew a guilty person a mile off, especially when it was a student who had 'forgotten' to do his homework.

Hermione did respect her since she had at first regarded Astronomy as a woolly subject, unimportant when placed alongside the likes of Transfiguration or Charms, but Sinistra taught in such a way that it became evident that sometimes she needed to pay attention to everything around her, otherwise it would just pass her by. In Astronomy you either sat up in class and paid attention or you didn't care and missed out. It was as simple as that.

When it became apparent neither was going to speak first, Sinistra gathered up her star chart and went back to the telescope, scratching away with her quill.

"What brings you here tonight, Severus?" she asked, squinting through the lens. "I thought you preferred the dungeons?"

"It was surprise you, Ursa, but I am not limited to those confines. Besides, the air is a lot fresher up here."

The Astronomy professor smiled. "Yes, sometimes living so near to the Potions classrooms could be a disadvantage when one of the classes had an accident. I remember when I was in first year…you must have been in about seventh year then. Your class had some sort of mishap with Dungbombs and salamander intestines apparently. Terrible stench; we'd hold our noses going to breakfast for a week."

If Hermione wasn't mistaken, Snape's lips turned slightly up at the corners. "You remember that?"

"Yes. Amongst other things," she paused in her stargazing to glance back at him.

"I don't recall seeing you a lot that year."

"Well I was only a first year and you had other things happening to notice us. Seventh years tended to be a source of terror for even us tiny Slytherins," she let out a soft laugh.  Hermione, still hiding in the shadows, raised her eyebrows. So Professor Sinistra had been a Slytherin and at school with Snape, if only for a short while. Snape made a vague noise, signifying the conversation had come too close to something and was over.

Straightening up, Sinistra adjusted the telescope and folded up her parchment. "Well, everything seems to be in order up there." She tucked away her quill and started towards the door, but then stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"You've just got to remember to check down here once in a while too." With a gentle smile, she nodded at him and showed herself out. For a while, Snape just stood there staring at the closed door.

Finally, he lowered his eyes and crossed over to one of the tower windows. Ursa Sinistra had always made him feel uneasy. Her strange, silent way of watching people, gave one the uncanny feeling that they were being discerned, and most accurately. She had been just the same as a student, at least as much as he could remember of her as a first year. Ursa had been tall for her age, pale and skinny, with long, dark hair. She was always quiet and mostly alone, but unlike Severus, the majority of the House seemed quite civil towards her.

She was an odd woman, to be sure, but one to be trusted.

Severus reached up to rest a hand against the window, leaning further out over the sill as he did so. The grounds were dark and the only sound was the wind picking up, rustling leaves and making the lake stir on the surface. He closed his eyes, allowing the breeze to sweep over him and moving the hair away from his face.

He was quite alone. Or so he thought. Severus stiffened suddenly at a tiny noise behind him. As if someone…or something, had just shifted slightly, trying not to attract his attention.

His silent, demure self was banished. Severus Snape, sharp, suspicious denizen of the dungeons emerged.

"Who's there?" he barked, his features drawn. He wasn't in the mood to be disturbed.

Silence. No one answered him, but he was more than sure that was just a decoy.

"I know you're there. Reveal yourself!"

The soft, scared sounding voice that answered him, sent him reeling.

"I hoped you wouldn't hear me."

Her. But what was she doing up here? At this time of night? She wasn't the type of break the rules so deliberately like this, and if she did, she wouldn't get caught.

Giving him another shock, Hermione Granger's head appeared out of thin air, but he tried not to show it.

Neither moved. He continued to stare at her and she dropped her eyes. He watched as the Invisibility Cloak (Potter's, presumably), was pulled away from her shoulders, revealing her simple school robes. She clutched it to herself tightly.

"What are you doing up here Miss Granger?"

He was just thinking she was going to refuse to look at him at all, when she quickly turned her eyes to his. Her answer was just as curt as his question.

"I wished to get some fresh air, Professor." She spoke in a short, clipped tone. "Is that a crime by your standards now?"

Severus had to admit he was taken aback by her defiant voice. "Don't be so impertinent, Miss Granger."

He observed her closely. She'd obviously been curled up, perhaps even asleep up her, Merlin knew why, before Sinistra had come in. Hermione's chestnut hair was tousled at the back and her robes slightly wrinkled from sitting on the floor.

He took in a breath. He was about to do something horribly foreign to him. Professor Snape was about to let a student off for rule breaking.

"On the condition that I never find you up here again at this time of night, Miss Granger, you may stay longer up here tonight. But never again. You understand me? I think that is more than fair."

Hermione gaped at him, unblinking. Was she supposed to feel _grateful?_ _Honoured? _Was this supposed to be _fairness?_

He was watching her again, looking as though he thought he had just done her a wonderful favour. Right now, she couldn't give a damn how many times he'd saved her- last time she'd tried to approach him he'd acted like a complete prick and humiliated her beyond belief.

Furious, she burst out, "Don't you dare!"

"Excuse me?" He was incredulous. She could feel the anger bubbling up even more at his sneering expression.

"This isn't funny! You can't…jerk people around like puppets!"

"Miss Granger, what-"

"First, you tell me how you 'understand' me and want to help me, then you consider me an 'irritation', and now, now you're telling me _this _is being fair?" 

Glaring at him and ignoring his interruption, she continued.

"I know some people might allow you to string them along by their emotions, but I for one am not about to be shamed by a prematurely aged prick like you!" 

Snape opened his mouth again, but she beat him to it. "Congratulations! You made me feel like a fool." She stepped closer to him, too wound up to stop now. "And anyone who makes me feel like that can forget about getting any of my time again, until I receive a bloody apology!"

"Miss Granger!"

"Which I'm sure isn't a problem for you!"

Eyes blazing, she threw on the Invisibility Cloak and he heard the door slam violently in reply.  


	17. Fly On The Wall

**A/N: **Wow, 243 reviews. Every time I read a new one it makes me smile. Thanks for taking your time to read and tell me your opinion. I hope you like this next chapter, and know that I have the next in my head. Thanks to beta Angel, she always has a fresh cage of plot bunnies when I have stale ideas. I'll try to update soon.

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**17. Fly on the Wall**

A dreamy smile stretched Hermione's face before she sat up and yawned, pushing away the bedclothes. Early morning sunlight was spilling in through the window, warming the room. Only Hermione had awoken. The rest of the Gryffindor seventh year girls remained dozing peacefully.

Swinging herself out of the bed and slipping her feet into her slippers, she wondered why she felt so rested, which was a new experience this term. Hermione's head didn't feel so heavy and she didn't ache to close her eyes and drift away again. She was quite content to get up, get dressed and head down to breakfast.

Was it because it was a Friday? No, she had soon realised a long time ago that this way of thinking only made the following Monday arrive faster. Was there something she was looking forward to doing in class today? She frowned. That didn't seem to be it. An alarm bell seemed to be sounding in the back of her mind.

_Hold on._

_Class…_

_I have Potions his afternoon…_

_Oh crap, what have I gone and done?_

The realisation of what she had done and most of all said last night, hit her like a ton of bricks. She sank back down on to her mattress, not so happy to get on with the day anymore. Thinking about what she had yelled in anger at him just made it worse with each passing second.

A prick. She'd called him a _prematurely aged prick_. Cringing, Hermione stared at the opposite wall in horror. What on earth had possessed her to let her mouth take control and let her mind, her sanity, take a backseat?

A great yawn from the right of her pushed her away from her panic and she jumped up. Erica, eyes half closed, sat up. "…Time to get up yet..?" She blinked a few times to clear her eyes and roughly tied her hair back, which had escaped from it's elastic as she was sleeping. Looking slightly more conscious, she noticed Hermione standing by the side of her bed looking half in this world, half in another.

"Hermione?"

Hermione glanced at her, startled again, her eyes clouded with confliction. 

"What!" She lowered her voice. "I mean, what?"

Erica frowned. "Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

"No, I mean yes…I mean…I'm going to get a shower." Still looking distracted, Hermione picked up her dressing gown and went towards the stairs. The Gryffindor girls' bathroom was two floors down. Thoughts of drowning herself in the hot water for her abysmal blunder calmed Hermione slightly.

Harry tugged the plug out of the sink and headed out, pulling his t-shirt over his head and slipping on his school robes. Yawning, he walked down the steps, taking two at a time. A few people were already in the common room, some leaving it to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Planning to follow Seamus and Dean, Harry stopped on his way to the portrait hole when he saw a figure sitting alone in the armchair by the fire.

"Ginny?"

The sixth year redhead jumped. "Oh, morning Harry. I didn't see you then." He frowned slightly. Ginny looked quite pale, with grey shadows beneath her eyes.

He gave her a small smile. "I guessed as much. I'm going down to breakfast, are you coming?"

Ginny shook her head. "I…well, I thought I'd wait for Ron. To see if he's…is he nearly ready yet?"

"He's still in bed, Ginny," Harry replied apologetically.

"Oh. Well, if he's not awake…I might as well." Ginny stood up.

"He is awake, I think, but I'm not sure he particularly wanted to get up this morning."

Concern flooded Ginny's face. "He seemed okay last night when we came back...did he say anything to you?"

"Not a word. But…Ginny, does he think that Ch…" Harry hesitated. "Does he think that this is all Hermione's fault?"

"What?" She looked confused for a moment, and then it dawned on her. "Oh, he didn't…" Ginny's expression darkened at Harry's reluctant nod. "I can't believe he…my brother is such a daft, immature…"

She didn't get to finish exactly what Ron was, Harry stopped her. "Look, I'm sure he'll be different later. You know how he is-"

"You think I care? Do you see me storming up to Hermione's room and making a complete prat of myself? If anything, I want to thank her for pulling the wool from our eyes. I don't give a flying Hippogriff about how much my brother is upset over Charlie…I can only imagine how Hermione is feeling…she's had more than enough to deal with recently…" Her face twisted into an ugly scowl, Ginny turned on her heel and headed to the portrait hole.

"Are you coming?" she asked Harry over her shoulder.

Harry was still taken aback. "But aren't you, I mean…don't you-"

"Right now, I'm hungry, Harry. Are you coming down to breakfast or not?" Ginny climbed out of the portrait hole and Harry hurried after her, his frown deepening. The youngest Weasley was a puzzle, he thought, absentmindedly.

The shower had done nothing. Hermione didn't want to cry as much as she wished she had thrown herself off the Astronomy Tower while she had the chance. Her insides twisted up in apprehension, she adjusted her bag slightly and pushed one of the doors to the Great Hall open.

Breakfast was in full swing and with a thankful pang in her stomach; Hermione saw that Snape wasn't present at the teacher's table. Still in a slight daze, she approached her usual seat between Harry and Ginny. Not bothering to acknowledge her silent companions just yet, she quickly poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice and downed it; hopefully to absolve the queasy feeling she'd had since she'd woken up with a rather horrifying memory.

"Would it be too much to ask for a little alcohol in this place?" she muttered under her breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry and Ginny sharing a worried glance.

"Well…Seamus managed to finally Transfigure water into rum last year," said Harry.

Hermione scowled at him and began to focus intently on the ceramic plate before her on the table.

"Hermione?"  She didn't look up at him. "Are you sure you're…well, okay? I mean," he carried on hastily. "It's understandable if you're not, but you look like you've just had the worst night of your life."

To his surprise, Hermione began to laugh. When she spoke, it was odd and high-pitched. ""Me? No. Just couldn't sleep. Toast would be good. How are you?" All this was said very quickly as she lunged across the table towards the toast rack.

"I'm…not bad," he answered, watching as she crunched her way through a slice of dry toast. He took a quick look at Ginny who raised her eyebrows at him.

"Er…listen. I need to…er…get my…Divination book. See you later." Harry gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder and hurried off down the table.

Hermione frowned. "What is he talking about? Harry dropped Divination ages ago. Of course, Ron decided to keep on at it, God knows why, the-" She stopped mid-sentence, staring at Ginny. "Oh, I didn't mean to-"

Hermione was surprised when Ginny gave her a smile. "Don't you dare. Feel free to insult my brother. He deserves it, the great prat. Treating you like that last night."

Hermione interrupted her. "Ginny, he probably didn't mean to-"

"Don't kid yourself, Hermione. Ron knew exactly what he was doing and he'll come to his sense soon enough. Charlie was my brother too, y'know, and it scares me that we never saw him for what he really was, but do you see me blaming you? So if that's what you're mooning about, you can forget it." Ginny looked sad at the mention of her imprisoned brother's name but brightened up again by the time she'd finished speaking.

Hermione nodded but began to gnaw on her lower lip. Should Ron's behaviour be a bigger worry to right now? Somehow it paled in comparison to what Snape was planning for her in Potions. She shuddered involuntarily.

"What is it?" asked Ginny, frowning.

"Nothing," she answered automatically. She couldn't tell Ginny…could she?

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know you. When ever you start to chew on your lip like that, something's wrong." She narrowed her eyes. "And it's not to do with Ron either, is it?"

Feeling weak by Ginny's insistent gaze and the impending interrogation, Hermione shook her head reluctantly. The redhead's eyes widened.

"Tell me."

Hermione's came out in a rush. 

"IyelledatSnapelastnightandI'mafraidhe'sgoingtokillme."

"What?"

"Last night, I yelled at Snape."

"What?" Ginny repeated.

"He…annoyed me and I wasn't in a particularly good mood so I…just let it all out."

Ginny raised her eyebrows apprehensively. "You 'let it all out'? What did you say exactly?"

Hermione hesitated. "I called him a prematurely aged prick."

Ginny didn't move for a moment, and then, through a barely concealed laugh, she said, "Oops…"

"This isn't funny!" Hermione reproached.

"I know, I know. It's just…Hermione, were you drunk?"

"No," replied Hermione looking defensive. "I told you I didn't mean to. It just slipped out."

"Slipped out? Have you got a death wish? Snape'll eat you alive during your Potions lesson."

"Really? I had no idea," answered Hermione sarcastically, glaring at Ginny. She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I have to go to Charms. See you later."

Ginny said her goodbyes and finished her own breakfast, glancing around and absently realising she was going to be the last to leave the Hall that morning. She pushed away her plate, slung her bag over her shoulder and quickly left the hall.

Ginny was wrong. There was one more person to leave the Hall late after breakfast, and Pansy Parkinson currently had the most unsettling smirk Ginny would have ever seen, etched across her pale face. She couldn't wait to tell Draco. Oh yes, she definitely had the Mudblood now…


	18. Strengths

**A/N: **Thank you to everybody who reviewed, and to my beta, **Angel.** I was quite hurt by a certain review for my last chapter. Brittany- I would have preferred to e-mail you if possible but you left no address. First of all, let's get this straight. Are you insulting me and everybody who 'ships HG/SS? Or are you simply insulting my writing ability? I was rather confused by your review/flame. Also, if HG/SS is just plain 'nasty', then _why _did you click on my fic which clearly states is a HG/SS?

For your information, I enjoy writing for this 'ship, and if you can't be bothered to clearly state why you find it so offensive, I cannot find a reason to stop doing it. There are lots of HP 'ships to peruse and I suggest that you find one that is more to your liking. I'm not a fan of many 'ships, for instance, HG/LM, but I would never flame someone on those grounds. Everybody has the right to like what they want. The solution is to leave it alone and find something you prefer, as the majority of decent fic readers do. If it's my writing that irritates you, please e-mail me because I'd like to improve. My address is available in my profile, as always.

To everyone who has said they like it so far, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

****

**18. Strengths**

"So I'd listed the properties and then Natalie asks me to go down to the pitch and check out one of the Quaffles. Turns out the Fairness Charm on it had stopped functioning properly. Kept on zooming over to random people instead of acting like a Muggle ball. When I finally found Hooch, she told me to take it to Flitwick. By the time I got back, I had to do that nasty Transfiguration essay and could only spend fifteen minutes on the rest of Potions." Harry sighed histrionically to Hermione who was staring bleakly at the dungeon wall and listening vaguely, giving an absent nod every so often. "I'll be lucky if I scrap a D, if Snape doesn't decide I qualify for Troll status."

Hermione suddenly realised Harry had finished. "Oh, well…you've had mostly 'A's this year, and a couple of 'E's….one 'D' won't do too much damage."

"Hermione, are you mad? I need to get an 'A' in my N.E.W.T's at least to apply for Auror Training."

"Harry, they'd be stupid not to accept _you_, Mr Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord, and besides it's your final exam grade that matters most and Snape isn't the one who judges that. You got a decent grade on your Potions O.W.L for that reason."

"Don't give him false hope, Granger. Personally, I'll be astounded if Snape doesn't kick him out before Christmas," Draco Malfoy drawled, a sneering Pansy Parkinson hanging adoringly on his arm.

"Oh, look, it's the Amazing Bouncing Ferret and his dog-faced friend," snapped Harry. Malfoy's comment had obviously stung. Draco's lip curled.

"Don't be rude, Potter, especially to my girlfriend." Harry hid a smirk, unsuccessfully. "And I wasn't finished. My sources," he turned to Hermione, "inform me that this Mudblood here might be joining you." He raised his eyebrows and grinned slyly at her. Hermione felt her insides run cold. He knew…but how..? She glanced at Pansy. The girl leered back at her.

"You may think the youngest Weasley is a fine catch Potter, but she can't keep any secrets to herself."

"Fine catch?" interrupted Draco incredulously. "Scraping the bottom of the barrel is what I call it."

Before Harry could lunge at the Slytherin, he became aware of a dark figure standing behind them.

"A usual case of teenage aggression, Mr. Potter? Dear, dear…I think ten points deducted from Gryffindor should do the trick."

Harry lowered his head, hiding his furious scowl. Snape swept past into his classroom, his eyes not passing over Hermione once. She was half-glad and half-disappointed. In no way did she want him to attack her this afternoon, but still, she couldn't help wanting him to challenge her, daring him to question her outburst the night before.

The assembled Gryffindors and Slytherins followed him in.

The lesson was a complete success. Well, if you were going by Hermione's display of academic ability. If you were examining her barely concealed nerves, it most certainly- wasn't. She kept glancing up at the dark, imposing desk and its matching owner at the front of the classroom. She almost dropped her vial of salamander blood as she picked up the volatile ingredient with a pair of silver tongs.

Harry's furtive looks weren't helping either. Trying ardently to push her fear out of her head, she hissed over to him. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Like what? I've not been looking at you," Harry defended. Hermione stared back at him, arching one eyebrow.

Harry gave up his dissent. After giving Snape a quick look, he answered, "What was Pansy talking about?"

Hermione froze, but then recovered. "Ginny, obviously. And how did they know you like her before I did?"

Harry ignored her question. "Not that. What did she mean by 'secrets'?" 

She refused to meet his gaze. "I don't know. Why don't you ask her?"

"Hermione, you've been odd since last night. You were acting depressed, and at breakfast you were, well, hyper and on edge."

"No, I wasn't," she denied.

"Is this about Ron, because I get the feeling that it's not."

"Not everything's about Ron, Harry. And where is he, anyway? Still in his room?"

"Yes, and you're avoiding the issue. What happened after you took my cloak?"

Hermione stopped and placed her measuring cylinder down on the desk with a heavy clunk. "Nothing! Okay? Nothing! Just stop asking me stupid questions that I don't want to answer and I'll be fine!" Her voice came out in a harsh whisper. Neville looked up in alarm form beside them.

"I'd shut up if I were you Harry, especially if you want to keep your head. And I'm not just talking about Snape wanting to dismantle you."

"Sorry, Hermione." The brunette offered him a small reluctant smile. "I'm more worried about Hermione attacking me for being an idiot today…Snape isn't exactly his usual bitter self right now."

"Yeah. He didn't even flinch when I knocked over my cauldron."

Rather than resorting to his usual stress-inducing tactics by skulking through the wavering rows of desks in hope of startling a student into burning their cauldron, Snape remained at his desk, marking work with a vehement scowl displayed on his face. Occasionally, his critical eyes scanned the busy class, but not once did he rise to his feet.

An uneasy atmosphere had settled upon the class. They were never fans of Snape's derision, but to be left without it was entirely unsettling. They worked in silence, hoping that this about-face attitude wouldn't subside too quickly. When the clock struck four, Snape begrudgingly gave them permission to leave.

"I want your work bottled and on my desk before you leave. Oh, and Mr. Potter?" Harry, who had been slowly pushing his essay into his bag, lifted his head, looking shifty. "I _had _forgotten to collect in the set work but thank you for reminding me."

The class groaned in unison and it wasn't just the Slytherins throwing Harry dirty looks.

Hermione corked her flagon, wiped around its neck to ensure there was no overspill and then carefully applied a label with her neatly printed name on it. After shaking it vigorously, she picked up her bag and pulled out her homework. Which she had, incidentally, been thinking about not handing it in, as an avoidance ploy.

"Ready to go?" asked Harry. Hermione nodded.

"I can't believe Ron didn't turn up for Potions," she said in a low tone. "Someone needs to talk to him," she added pointedly.

"I will later," answered Harry, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't look so worried."

They joined the throng of students heading to the door, planning to leave their bags in Gryffindor Tower and stay there for a while before dinner.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione froze. _Oh, Lord. Here it comes. _She swivelled as gradually as possible, refusing eye contact with the tall Slytherin.

"Please stay behind, I wish to speak with you."

Hermione nodded, accepting her doom. Harry lingered, looking between his friend and his Potions Master, feeling awkward.

"I er…"

"Miss Granger does not need you as an escort, Mr. Potter. I said I wanted to _speak_ to her, not eat her."

Unwillingly, Harry turned and made his way to the door. Snape remained still until the door had closed with a soft click. Then he made his way to his desk and sat down behind it. His elbows rested on his desk, his chin resting on his bridged hands. Hermione noticed how his black hair slipped from behind his ears over his eyes and the way he irritably pushed it back. That was the reason she tried to always wear it back in classes. Maybe one she would suggest the idea to him. Not a blue scrunchie, obviously. Perhaps a black ribbon would look nice? _Wait. _Was she seriously suggesting offering her surly professor hair tips?

_No. You're furious with him and you're not going to let him get away with a snide comment or insult. Not this time. And you're certainly not going to think about his hair._

Closing her eyes temporarily, Hermione recomposed herself. Neither of them had spoken yet and they'd been silent for more than a minute.

Breaking the stillness, she opened her mouth. "Professor, I-"

Suddenly, Snape raised his head to look directly at her and spoke, cutting her off. Hermione swallowed her words.

"I apologise."

Hermione had to gape at him for a full ten seconds before she comprehended what he had just said.

"You-"

"Apologise. I know it's uncommon, but you might want to close your mouth before you start catching flies, Miss Granger. I apologise for behaving in such an uncouth manner and for, as you say, 'jerking you around by your emotions'. I was severely wrong to do so."

At first, Hermione felt like pushing the apology back into his expressionless face, but then she realised something. It must have taken him a lot to come out and say it. Even if it sounded stiff and informal, he probably had no experience of anyone wanting him to apologise; they'd probably just shoved him aside. But Hermione had been shoved aside too in the past. She knew however he uttered his apology, he deserved for her to accept it with good graces.

She took a breath. "Thank you."

He bowed his head slightly. "It isn't necessary. I've never understood why people should say thank you for those reasons when they were the one to be harmed in the first place."

"Perhaps it makes them feel that they were worth the apology. It someone wants you to forgive them, it doesn't feel so bad anymore. That's reason enough for thanks."

"Perhaps so." He was watching her intently now. "I will attempt fervently not to cross paths or inconvenience you again like this, Miss Granger. Good day." Snape leaned back in his chair and began rifling through some papers.

Hermione didn't leave, but resumed staring at him again, mentally repeating what he'd just said.

"May I ask what was the point of asking to be forgiven when you have a finishing statement like that?"

Snape looked up. "Excuse me?"

"'I will attempt fervently not to cross paths with you or inconvenience you again'?" 

Snape's face was unreadable. Hermione's face wasn't angry; it looked close to hurt.

"You do realise that some of the only times I have felt safe and definitely not an inconvenience after last year, was when you found me in the Shrieking Shack? Or when you told me you knew how I felt and wanted to help me?" 

He still didn't answer, pressing Hermione to go further, both in her steps and her words. She came closer to his desk and rested her hands on it, meeting his eyes. Her voice became softer.

"Please tell me why I woke up from a nightmare and thought you were the best person to come to. Not Ron, not Harry, not even Professor McGonagall, for crying out loud! You! Even after you told me I was in your way and that you were sick of the sight of me, when Ron came back, I automatically thought of you. I couldn't go to you, but I found you anyway and then it all came out and you might have apologised but it doesn't make a damn bit of difference to you!"

Severus watched as the girl's soft tone erupted into a much louder, stronger voice. It wasn't anger he could hear. Strangely enough, it seemed as though she was pleading with him. For what? His company? No-one was fool enough to want that. But then, why was she here, talking to him like this…oh, Merlin she was crying now.

He shifted in his chair awkwardly as a tear escaped one of her brown eyes. She wiped it away hastily.

"But it makes a difference to me! You're in here-" she tapped on the side of her head. "In my head. Because you seem to be the only person who knows how to get everything else out. I was avoiding it just fine until you came along with that horrible potion and brought it all up again. I can only do so much 'homework' and I can't distract myself with the N.E.W.T's because I know full well that I could have passed them in fifth year. I can't even find things to do with Ron and Harry anymore after finding out about Charlie."

She stopped for breath, not even noticing Severus had risen form his seat, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "You could have been my security and helped me, but you're not, and now I'm supposed to go home and act like nothing ever happened, and have Ron hate me for as long as he wants. I can't do it! I can't-"

She broke into tears. Severus stood by her uneasily until she wiped them away and steadied her breathing. In all honesty, he hadn't the faintest idea of what to do. Though some had exited his classroom trying to fight back their tears unsuccessfully, he had never experience a student break down in front of him before and didn't know how to react. Somehow, scorn was pushed away and he could only watch, helplessly. 

"I think I'm the one who was the inconvenience, Professor Snape," she said almost too quiet for him to hear. Then she adjusted her school bag and left, the door slamming shut behind her.

Severus stared after her. "You _can _do it," he replied before sitting down heavily. That's why he'd thought he could help her in the first place. Not because she had been hurt and needed someone to turn to, because she had it in her to help herself.


	19. Giving In

**A/N:** Thanks for all of the reviews, it's what keeps me going. Also, thanks for everyone who spoke out against the flames I received, one nice word can erase a thousand bad ones. Thanks to **Angel** for beta-ing. On another note, I've also started posting this story at Lord And Lady Snape is you want to check out that site at any time. And **Sleeping Dragons Die- **Huge thank you for your 'mini-essay' : )
    
    ****
    
    **19. Giving In**
    
    "Though a powerful and occasionally lethal sedative, the Cariathelas Vine, at
    
    its most concentrated stage, can often be administered as a healing agent in
    
    several common draughts and ointments. Unknown to many wizards, Muggles have
    
    also discovered its healing properties, though all non-magical. In the Muggle
    
    world, the vine goes by the name-"
    
    Ron's quill stopped. What did Muggles call it? He drummed the feather against
    
    the parchment, thinking. Try as he might, his mind was refusing to locate the
    
    elusive name. Eventually, he gave up.
    
    "Sod it." The quill flew across the room and Ron pushed the roll of parchment
    
    from his lap in annoyance. He hadn't even been to Herbology today, but Professor
    
    Sprout had sent him the homework by owl. At first, he'd tossed it aside but
    
    Harry had arrived soon after and he'd used it as an excuse to avoid the
    
    Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Leave-Him-Alone. According to him, Hermione was 'concerned' and wanted to see him.
    
    Sod Hermione. Sod her sodding concern, Ron thought furiously. If she cared so
    
    much, then why hadn't she made an appearance up here yet? The fact that it was
    
    the boys' dormitory hadn't ever stopped her before. Even after that unfortunate
    
    incident when she'd walked in on Dean and an issue of PlayWizard.
    
    Ron flopped backwards, his head landing with a soft thump on the thick,
    
    comfortable pillows. He was rolling onto his side, eyes closed, when the
    
    fluttering of wings caused him to sit up again. Pigwidgeon flew through the
    
    tower windows and landed at the foot of the bed, hopping excitedly and hooting
    
    impatiently. A scroll was tied to his foot. Tiredly, Ron took it and shooed the
    
    tiny owl. It was sealed with the Hogwarts insignia. He tore it open.
    
    _Mr. Weasley,_
    
    _It has come to my attention that your attendance at class and meals of late has_
    
    _been__ less than satisfactory. I assure you, any concern on the part of your_
    
    _family__, friends and teachers is not false, and I would advise you not to push it_
    
    _aside__._
    
    _I expect to hear that you attended your Transfiguration class this afternoon and_
    
    _I would like to see you in my office directly afterwards for a much-needed_
    
    _discussion__._
    
    _Professor Albus Dumbledore_
    
    _Headmaster of Hogwarts' __School__ of __Witchcraft__ and Wizardry.___
    
    Something seemed to be lodged in his throat, for Ron was lost for words.
    
    Dumbledore never missed a thing and he obviously hadn't missed his lackluster
    
    attempt at picking up from where he'd been before he found out about Charlie.
    
    His mood significantly unsettled, Ron stood up and went to find his
    
    Transfiguration book.
    
    "Nancy Winters?"
    
    "Yes, Professor," answered the Slytherin brunette from her place at the back of
    
    the class.
    
    McGonagall marked down something in her notebook and then surveyed the desk
    
    where the Golden Trio usually sat.
    
    "Mr. Weasley is absent again, I see?" she asked, her lips thinning.
    
    Harry nodded from beside a silent Hermione. McGonagall paused before putting the
    
    notebook down on the table.
    
    "If you could all take out your homework and- Mr. Weasley?"
    
    Half the class's heads spun round towards the door. Ron, his face set and
    
    expressionless stood there with his bag.
    
    "Sorry, I'm late Professor."
    
    With great resolution on her face, the Transfiguration mistress managed to let
    
    it pass.
    
    "I do not want to see you so delayed again, Mr. Weasley. Understand?"
    
    Ron seemed to ignore her and went straight to his seat beside Hermione. He made
    
    no eye contact with anybody and proceeded to gaze sullenly ahead. After
    
    regarding him for a few moments, McGonagall continued with the lesson.
    
    "Once you have all given me your homework, I want you to practice turning your
    
    fully grown cats into kittens, demonstrating proper aging decrease, and then
    
    returning them to their usual state. I shall be inspecting you all- please do
    
    not look so agitated at the fact Mr. Zabini, it doesn't fill me with the
    
    greatest confidence- and I will be severely disappointed if anybody cannot
    
    complete the task admirably. You may start."
    
    Clusters of students came to the front desk to hand in their essays and to
    
    collect one of the many yowling felines from a large cage. Harry winced as the
    
    tabby he was struggling to keep hold of reached out with a particularly vicious
    
    looking claw. Beside him (though he might as well have been on a different
    
    planet for the attention he was paying him) Ron grabbed a tortoiseshell by the
    
    scruff of the neck and took it dangling to his desk, hissing and spitting.
    
    Hermione, who had passed the task weeks before, was duplicating tadpoles in a
    
    small tank. As Ron dropped the cat onto the desk, she bit her lip reproachfully.
    
    "You shouldn't really hold him like that…" Immediately, she wanted to tape her
    
    mouth shut. For all conversation starters, this wasn't the one she should have
    
    chosen.
    
    Ron froze for a second, his brow furrowed. It appeared as though he was going to
    
    answer, but instead, he took out his wand and began to try the spell. She raised
    
    an eyebrow at Harry. The way he was going about it looked painful; jabbing his
    
    wand absently at the cat who was trying to frantically pull away from his
    
    restrictive hand.
    
    Seemingly unable to restrain herself, Hermione suddenly blurted out, "For
    
    Merlin's sake, Ron, Stupefy it or you'll get your eyes scratched out."
    
    "Then I wouldn't have to see your face again," snarled Ron nastily. Hermione
    
    looked stunned. For a second, he felt a stab of guilt but pushed it away
    
    quickly.
    
    "There's no need to be so rude towards helpful advice, Mr. Weasley," came McGonagall's sharp voice from behind them.
    
    Before he could stop himself, Ron muttered, "What do you know?"
    
    McGonagall's lips pursed even more. "Mr. Weasley! One more comment like that and
    
    you're out of my classroom!"
    
    Ron didn't answer, but as she turned, everyone in the class clearly heard his
    
    low, uncalled for "Do you really think I care, you old hag?"
    
    McGonagall looked beyond furious, her cheeks pinched white and her eyes
    
    straining their sockets in anger. Draco Malfoy was grinning like it was his
    
    birthday. The rest of the class held their breaths. It was rare that somebody
    
    crossed the Head of Gryffindor in such a way that it was akin to entertainment.
    
    "Mr. Weasley! I will not tolerate such shocking impertinence in my class! Take
    
    yourself outside until you can control yourself and your tongue!"
    
    There was few still seconds of absolute silence. Then Ron released the cat and
    
    picked up his bag.
    
    "Gladly!" Pushing roughly past a shocked Hermione and Harry, Ron made his way to
    
    the door and slammed it heavily behind him. The entire class sat wordlessly
    
    until McGonagall rapped her wand sharply on her desk.
    
    "Stop gawping! Back to work!"
    
    Ron strode from the classroom fuming. What right did she have to tell him what
    
    to do? How could she possibly know how he was feeling? After a few minutes of
    
    pointless, angry steps, he slowed, his bag sliding lazily from his shoulder. He
    
    did feel guilty for the way he'd treated Hermione, he wanted to apologise to her
    
    and to McGonagall for acting like such a prat. He felt defeated, angry with
    
    himself. Why hadn't he listened to his sister? Ron sighed and looked at his
    
    watch. He was a little early, but he didn't think the Headmaster would mind.
    
    "…and I have received word from Kingsley that the case will be settled within a
    
    few days. There will be no compulsory attendance for Weasley or his family.
    
    Charles will be accompanied by one of the Azkaban guards at all times, both to
    
    and from the prison and they have been instructed to 'keep him in line' should
    
    he overstep his boundaries."
    
    Dumbledore nodded slowly to Snape's information. "Though I do not agree to the
    
    use of force, I must concur that anything is better to the previous punishment."
    
    "I don't necessarily agree, Headmaster. In some cases, the means to an end….is
    
    just. But I believe Weasley has not made a biased decision."
    
    "Arthur was always firmly set against the Dementors," remarked Dumbledore. "I
    
    don't think he'd curse them on anyone, regardless whether they were family or
    
    not."
    
    Severus opened his mouth to answer, and then paused, frowning. Quickly, he
    
    turned and pulled open the office door, causing a startled Ron Weasley to jump
    
    backwards, one hand stationary in the air.
    
    "Weasley. How did you get up here?"
    
    "I-I guessed the password, sir, it's always the name of a sweet and I heard that
    
    Dumbledore-"
    
    "Professor Dumbledore," corrected Severus, examining the boy critically.
    
    "Professor Dumbledore," continued Ron, with an edge in his voice, "liked those
    
    new Tree-Hugger Truffles from Zonko's, so I just-"
    
    "Made an accurate guess, obviously," finished Severus, raising an eyebrow. He
    
    turned to Dumbledore, who was watching with a hint of a smile on his creased
    
    face. "Really, Headmaster, these passwords are a tad inappropriate. Any student
    
    could just waltz in whenever they liked."
    
    "As is my intention, Severus," said Dumbledore. "And I do have an appointment
    
    with Mr. Weasley…though he is incredibly punctual." He gave a questioning glance
    
    to Ron.
    
    "Professor, I…I was in Transfiguration…but I-"Ron looked awkwardly between the
    
    Headmaster and the Potions teacher. Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. 
    
    "I understand, Mr. Weasley. Severus, would you mind terribly if we discussed
    
    this matter further at dinner?"         
    
    "There is nothing more to discuss, Headmaster. Besides, I will not be in the
    
    castle this evening- I'd rather be back early in the morning, than the late
    
    afternoon."
    
    Dumbledore nodded. "Very well."
    
    Severus let himself out of the office, leaving Ron standing uncomfortably before
    
    the Headmaster.
    
    "Take a seat, Mr. Weasley." Ron quickly went over to the chair in front of
    
    Dumbledore's desk and sat down, facing the Headmaster's chair.
    
    "I have addressed your sister two days, ago but I do believe it due time for you
    
    and I to have a proper discussion relating to your brother. Do help yourself to
    
    a sherbet lemon."
    
    For the first time in his life, Ron accepted an offering of sweets from the
    
    Headmaster, as a way of distraction from the impending conversation.


	20. What Doesn't Kill Us

**A/N: **I apologise for the longer than necessary wait, but I hope that will change soon. This part of the story has been very sticky for me to write- I am anxious to get to what lies ahead. Plus, I have been buried in work. Easter holiday? What holiday? Hmph.

Anyway, huge thank you for reviewing and bearing with me. More big thanks to beta **Angel**- you're a godsend when it comes to Albus Dumbledore characterisation- it shows in this chapter. This is going to be somewhat of a turning point for the story, getting me to my eventual goal.

Also, sorry about the terrible formatting last chapter. Wasn't the way I typed it. I will try to change it when I get around to it.

****

**20. What Doesn't Kill Us…**

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, his wrinkled chin resting lightly on his bridged hands. Nervously, Ron stopped sucking on the sour sweet and switched it to the other side of his mouth.

"Tell me, Mr Weasley. What is the one thing you've despised being compared to or judged by from the moment you arrived at Hogwarts?"

Ron frowned. "I don't know." He lowered his eyes as he thought. "I've never been the richest kid here. My red hair is a legend as is my tact." He smiled weakly.

Dumbledore chuckled but then shook his head. "Very close, but you keep missing the bull's-eye. All these things, as unimportant as they are, are linked to my point. You are a Weasley, as much as you want to forget that fact, but it is very important now.

"Your sister was here not so long ago. Of her own accord, which was rather surprising. I remember the day she arrived in the Great Hall, wet through from the weather and positively shaking at the thought of being Sorted. I waited, as she sat on that stool, as did the rest of the staff. She was the last child of Arthur and Molly Weasley and had a legend to follow. Personally, I thought it would have been rather interesting to see what Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would have made of her, but her personality ousted any doubts. She, like you before her, was made a Gryffindor and lives up to that reputation today. In tears two days ago, but is now coping with the shock well. You, Mr Weasley, on the other hand, are stony-faced and seemingly emotionless. I am not surprised you let loose in Minerva's class this morning."

Ron, who had been decidedly mute until this point, looked up sharply. "How did you-"

"I fear that I have kept a closer eye on you than you anticipated."

Ron shifted in his chair under the scrutiny of the Headmaster. Dumbledore had always made him feel uneasy at the best of time. The ubiquitous nature he had going on wasn't exactly comforting.

As if sensing the red-haired boy's feelings, Dumbledore smiled gently. "This is an opportunity, Mr. Weasley. A moment when one must decide if to repeat the mistakes of the past or to write the foundation for the future. When _you _must decide. For it is up to you."

Ron began shaking his head. "Charlie…it seems impossible. How can he have been telling the Order how much he wanted to bring V-You-Know-Who down, or turning up last summer with Quidditch tickets for the Canons to take us all out? God, he even spent most of his pay check on a new broom for Ginny after she got Catcher and Mum couldn't afford it." He glanced away looking disgusted. "How could he have been doing all that, as part of our family, and then skipping off to Revels with the local Death-Eaters?"

"He was not the brother you knew for a long time. But I believe, somewhere inside, he still sees you as his family, not as-"

"'Muggle-loving fools'? He certainly didn't see me as his 'family' at Azkaban."

"No. And nobody is asking you to forgive him, Mr Weasley. What I think would be best is for you to take a step back and observe Charlie for what he truly is- human."

"_Human?"_ Ron choked out. "What human takes my Herm- best friend and is intent on destroying her because of her heritage? Human? That's a joke."

"I'm afraid you are not seeing my direction, Mr Weasley. It is simply too easy to say Charlie acted inhumanely. He demonstrated the unpleasant aspect of the very essence of what it is to possess a soul.

"One cannot deny human nature," he finished, his eyes sincere and his heart truly sorry for the emotions that flickered across the boy's face. Frustration, hurt, anger, sadness.

"But why?" he asked quietly. "Charlie was always…he never…"

"I think you can find the answer to that yourself, Mr Weasley.

For one of the few times during their conversation, Ron met the Headmaster's eyes. "Everyone is human," he started slowly. "Everyone has the chance, the ability to be human." He stopped. "No, not to be human…but to express it, to experience it."

"But humanity isn't necessarily the personification of goodness," Dumbledore interposed softly.

"And Charlie is an example of that." concluded Ron. He still felt confusion, but through all that the Headmaster had told him, something had begun to click.

"I believe you are right. As I also believe you would much prefer to go back to your House now? I have no intention of patronising you with ideas of 'acceptance', Mr Weasley. From the moment you were sorted into Gryffindor, it became clear that you had a strong head on your shoulders and were not so identical to every other Weasley. Whether you like it or not, I think you are still proving you are quite the individual."

Slowly, Ron rose out of his chair. His thoughts were still very mixed up but the turbulence he had felt this morning was beginning to fade.

"Thanks, Professor Dumbledore."

The Headmaster acknowledged him with a nod and a smile before Ron made his way to the door. "Mr Weasley?" Ron turned to face the wizard expectantly. "It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. What doesn't kill you, _will _make you stronger."

Ron tried to smile back. "I hope so." He opened the door and Dumbledore heard it click shut as he left.

"Those Muggles and their quotes," he said before popping one of the sweets into his mouth. "They always seem to hit the nail on the head."

hr

"Something wrong with your soup, Severus?" asked Flitwick, finding it hard to keep the amusement out of his voice. Snape had been stirring his vegetable broth mutinously for ten minutes, gazing at the far wall. Not a bite had been eaten and he hadn't touched his goblet of water.

"It's fine," answered Snape softly as Flitwick regarded him for a few moments and then turned in his seat to talk to McGonagall. Actually, there were several things wrong with the meal but the last time he had tried voicing his honest opinion, the house elves in the kitchens had made his mealtimes even more unbearable than they usually were.

His dark gaze fell upon the Gryffindor table. Potter sat near to the head of it. The redheaded Weasley girl was next to him, offering him the breadbasket and chatting freely. No one else seemed to have noticed that the Golden Trio was in shreds except him, and that was irony in itself. That soon changed as the door to the Great Hall opened, allowing the older Weasley entrance. The noise level didn't lower too obviously, but many glances were turned his way, along with the raising of eyebrows and nudging.

Weasley looked around the Hall for a moment and then began to walk toward the Gryffindor table, getting closer to where his best friend and his sister sat. He stopped and Snape could almost read his mind. He clearly was unsure whether he was welcome in their company. Potter suddenly erased all doubt by offering a small smile in his direction. Five minutes later, the three were talking again; all discomfort had seemingly evaporated. Snape shook his head in disgust. Funny how Hermione's non-appearance didn't seem to affect their comradeship. Exhaling loudly, he dropped his spoon, stood up and swept out of the hall.

Harry watched as the Potions Master left the Hall, black robes in a flurry. "Snape doesn't look happy," he commented as the door swung shut behind him.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "As opposed to his usual sunny disposition?"

Ginny nudged him in the side, frowning slightly. "Hasn't Charlie taught you anything?" she said softly, not completely reprimanding.

Harry was still gazing at the door. "Why does he stay here?" he wondered. "It's obvious he hates teaching and he doesn't have to 'spy' on Dumbledore anymore."

"Hermione wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him," said Ron slowly. "Charlie would have…" His face darkened. "Where is she?"

"Hermione? I don't know. She wasn't in your last class?" asked Ginny.

"No" answered Harry, shaking his head. "We had Divination."

"Oh," Ginny shrugged. "Perhaps she just isn't hungry?"

"Neither am I," said Ron, before standing up. "I want to talk to her anyway. I'll go see if she's in the tower."

A glance that was both relieved, but weary, passed between Harry and Ginny as they watched him depart.


	21. Coming Clean

**A/N:** Thank you for your lovely reviews, they keep me going.  You'll notice this chap has been significantly quicker. The story should progress a little more quickly now, since I've got the sticky 'beginning' over with (yes, I know you're saying 'beginning?!') and I've dealt with Charlie. **Jaime**- Nope, this isn't a Ron/Hermione fic. Sorry if that's what you were expecting, but I don't want to disappoint you if that's what you were looking forward to. 

Thanks and hugs go to **Angel** for beta-ing. Please review.

Also, I have just got around to seeing the new trailer for PofA for the first time. *Fans herself* _Love _the beginning…*grins* Wonderful directing.

On with the show…

****

**21. Coming Clean**

"Widdershins," Ron told the Fat Lady who bestowed a friendly smile upon him as she swung forwards. He quickly climbed through the portrait hole to the Common Room and stopped abruptly. Hermione was sitting alone on the red sofa before the fire staring silently into the flames. Without making a noise, he slowly tread across the dark carpet, which was now threadbare in places. He ceased his movements when Hermione shifted slightly against the cushions and sighed. He frowned. It wasn't that Hermione hadn't sighed before but she sounded different this time, defeated almost.

"What's the point?" she said softly. Even from right behind her**,** Ron had to strain to hear the words. "He's a cold-hearted prat and always has been."

"Does that mean I can never change?" He'd expected her to jump a little, but Hermione reacted in the extreme. Within seconds, she'd leapt to her feet and her wand was now pointed determinedly between his eyes.

When she saw Ron's stunned expression, Hermione gasped and lowered her weapon immediately. "Gods, you scared me."

It wasn't the sudden presence of someone behind her that had caused her to jump so; it was that she thought the person she had been describing had overheard her. The relief was strange but then forgotten as she realized who was actually staring back at her.

"Ron…" 

The red-haired boy _-man? _she suddenly thought_-_ looked seriously at her. "Can we sit down?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she nodded and slowly sank down onto the worn-out sofa cushions. Ron joined her, leaving a good distance between the both of them. Neither spoke and Hermione began to self-consciously play with the tassel of one of the many pillows.

Ron began. "Hermione…about…look, I'm…" He sighed, annoyed with himself. "I'm a royal prat, Hermione. Worse than that. There aren't words to describe how much of an idiot I've been the last few days."

"I'm sure I could find a few." Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as the words slipped out accidentally. She cursed herself. The first time Ron had looked sincerely at her in days and she'd gone and ruined it. She looked up tentatively and was startled to find a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You should watch that mouth of yours, Hermione. Or else use it to constantly remind me not to slip up again." She returned his smile cautiously and then noticed his hands were shaking. Alarmed, she looked back into his eyes, which were staring entreatingly into her own cocoa ones.

"When you told me about Charlie, you scared me. Confused me. Charlie's always been my brother; you've been my best friend for almost seven years now. What you were telling me, it didn't make sense, but then it didn't make sense that you were lying either.

"Everything happened so fast. He's in Azkaban now**,** Dad didn't want him to be-" Ron broke off and then started again. "I came back here and I wanted to tell you that I was sorry for calling you a liar, I did…but then I saw you and Harry and I hated you**," **Hermione winced**, **" for being the one who had to tell me. "

"Hermione," his tone was urgent now. "I don't hate you, Merlin knows how much I _don__'__t_. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm so sorry. Hermione-"

At the pure honesty she could hear in his words, Hermione gently reached across and took his hands in her own.

"Shhhh." Her eyes slowly crept back up to his and she was moved to see they were glistening. This told her that he was sorry for taking his hurt out on her more than any words possibly could. She'd never seen Ron show any sign of tears before. Harry once, last summer, but never Ron. He gripped her hands tightly and then suddenly drew her into a hug.

They stayed like that for a while, his arms wrapped securely around her and her head against his chest.

"Do you forgive me?" his voice asked from above her.

She sniffed. "Of course, you silly boy. But I don't know about McGonagall. Maybe you should be giving her a hug, not me."

Ron laughed openly and she smiled against him. They were quiet for a few moments more until Ron shifted and she heard his voice again. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she moved to look at him properly.

"There's something else. I need to talk about before you were taken…about the Three Broomsticks…I know nothing can happen now, but maybe soon we could-"

The comfort of their regained friendship was pulled out from underneath her as he brought up the one thing that could ruin it. "No."

The look on Ron's face wasn't exactly hurt, it was something else that she couldn't quite place. "No?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No, Ron. It's not because of what's happened, I've felt this way a long time."

"Have you ever-"

She broke in again. "Yes. But it was the wrong time for you and I didn't act on it."

"When?" he asked softly.

"I think…no, I know, I began to like you after our fourth year but I only fully realized my feelings at the beginning of last year after Ginny commented that we're fighting more than usual. I started to think that we could have had something, but then, one night, you came into the Common Room, and you were holding Lavender's hand and smiling like an idiot." She laughed quietly, shaking her head again.

"You never said anything…" Ron's voice was hushed.

"What was I supposed to say? Hey, Ron, I've just realized I fancy you, would you mind dumping Lavender even though she noticed you first?"

"If you'd just told me…"

"I'd probably still feel the way I do now, Ron. I'm only your best friend, I can't be anything more."

"'Only' my best friend doesn't justify what you mean to me, Hermione. You and Harry- you're like family." He stopped as his words began to sink in.

"Exactly. You're my family too. And that would make you my brother…if I tried to let myself get involved with you…it would feel too forced."

Hermione gave him another hug. "This is what I want."

As Ron laid his head atop hers, he knew he would agree in time.

"You're probably right. Ah well, I would have dropped you for some gorgeous, leggy blonde in time anyway."

She slapped his arm and snorted in laughter. "You wish, Weasley."

______________________________________________________________________

Ginny glanced around the library inconspicuously before Harry felt a rustling under the table by his leg. He looked at the red-haired girl in question. "Every Flavour Beans," she whispered. "Pince is in her office."

Harry grinned and then reached into the bag to retrieve a yellow one. He put it into his mouth and chewed slowly before wincing. His lips pursed and he coughed out, "lemon flavoured."

Ginny laughed as loudly as she dared and then took one for herself before shoving the purple bag into the pocket of her school robes. She slipped it into her mouth.

"Eurgh…marshmallow." She grimaced before swallowing.

"You don't like marshmallow?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure why he was surprised but it struck him as odd that he didn't already know that about her. He'd spent enough time at the Burrow to compile a long list of Weasley likes and dislikes.

Ginny shook her head. "When I was little Ron told me it was dyed Moke droppings. Since then they've always seemed too…squishy to eat."

"I don't know," said Harry. "I've always liked Flumps…but I suppose Ron has a penchant for putting people off sweets. I've not eaten a Jelly Slug since second year."

Ginny smiled, remembering. "D'you reckon he found Hermione?"

Harry's face became more serious. "I hope so. I can't stand being the ally between them again."

"It'll be nice for the three of you to be together again." The smile on Ginny's face faded slightly. She shook it off with another laugh. "You're probably getting sick of the sight of me all the time."

He frowned. "What? Why would I?"

Ginny gave him a wry look. "Harry, do you have any idea how hard it is to hang around with a single member of the 'Golden Trio'? It's okay during summer- Hermione will stick with me then, but that's mainly because you and Ron are out playing Quidditch. Since Ron and Hermione have been well, I'm not sure 'fighting' is the right word, I've got to know you better. Even in just a few days."

Harry regarded her in surprise. He knew that he, Ron and Hermione were incredibly close as friends, but now he saw how Ginny could feel sometimes. She had good friends of her own year, he knew, and some from his own, but somewhere along the line she must have felt like there was some sort of blockade between her and the three of them.

"Ginny…if you ever want-"

She quickly interrupted him. "No, it's okay, I'd be a tag-along anyway."

Harry held a hand up. "Ginny, I'm sorry if we've ever made you feel like that. You shouldn't even need to say anything about it. You're _never_ a tag-along. I- We like having you around. Honestly."

She felt a little embarrassed at finally admitting her childish view of her older friends but Harry's easy and sincere smile made her relax.

Ginny stood up, closing the book she'd been pretending to read. "Come on. Let's find Hermione and Ron."

As she turned to place the book on a random shelf, she failed to see the look of strange curiosity on Harry's face. The pair left the library, just in time to miss an exaggerated _"__Shhhh!__"_ as Madam Pince returned to her desk, large glasses dangling on a chain around her neck.


	22. Going Through The Motions

**A/N:** Been thinking about this story quite a bit lately and talking about it with my beta. You'll notice advancement in this chapter- if I continued in September any longer, there'd be more than a 100 chapters before I got to Christmas and I'd probably give up by then.

The relationship between SS/HG will be slow to build- I think, especially with what's happened to Hermione earlier on, that a relationship started in her school years wouldn't necessarily be sudden or quick. There _will _be a sequel but that's all I'm saying. Please bear with me- I promise that they will get together eventually.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and to my beta **Angel. **Check out her fics under **Anubis81.** You won't be disappointed if you do.

****

**22. Going Through the Motions**

After the 'eventful' first weeks back at school for Hermione, the next couple of months passed quickly and without incident, blessedly. The burnt-orange rays of the late summer soon faded into grey skies, and the days grew shorter. Green leaves, once so admired by the sun's radiance began to crisp, and floated to the muddy earth below in various shades of crimson and ochre. They were soon trampled under the heavy boots of traipsing students.

In mid-November, bundled in thick robes, Gryffindor scarf and gloves, Hermione made her way from the Quidditch stands. She could feel her cheeks tingeing pink with cold and mentally urged Harry, Ron and Ginny to hurry up. Eventually, the three emerged from the changing rooms, oblivious to the girl waiting for them out in the cold.

"…So Johns just swoops through the goalpost, completely confusing Daley and chucks it to Ginny-" Harry was saying, explaining to an enthusiastic Ron who'd been hit in the head with a Bludger halfway through the game and had missed some of the action.

"Leaving me free to get to the other end and score," finished Ginny, grinning at her brother. She caught sight of Hermione and smiled over at her.

"Well done," said Hermione as the three caught up to her. "How's your head?" she added.

Ron gave a shrug. "S'okay. Wasn't that bad. Hooch wants me to see Madam Pomfrey, though." He grimaced. "She'll probably have me in the Infirmary all week."

"Oh, and won't that be a shame?" Ginny teased affably. A week away from lessons was widely known as one of Ron Weasley's fantasies, as with most students.

"We could always bring your homework to you," offered Hermione with one eyebrow raised.

-

Ginny sat on her bed drying her hair with a small towel. "Thanks," she said, noting the neatly folded and cleaned Quidditch robes and Hermione slipping her wand back into her pocket.

"That's okay." Hermione smiled. "You were really good today. Even I enjoyed the game."

"Miracles will happen."

Once the redhead had tied her hair back and put on her regular school robes, the two set off down to the common room and through the portrait hole.

"Hogsmeade weekend soon," said Hermione, after seeing the notice in the common room.

Ginny groaned. "Christmas presents again…I have no idea what to buy this year."

Hermione considered this. "Well…don't worry about me- I don't need anything…buy Ron anything remotely related to Quidditch and you can't go wrong…are you getting Harry something?"

The younger girl reddened slightly and bit her lip. "I'm not sure. I mean, normally I'll just buy him sweets or something but…"

"But what?" Hermione prompted.

"Maybe I should get him a nicer present, in case…" Ginny broke off looking embarrassed.

Hermione smiled slightly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Ginny shook her head rapidly. "No, nothing, nothing."

"Hmm." Hermione suddenly felt very suspicious but said no more. If Ginny wanted to tell her, she would. She could hypothesize about what had caused her embarrassment in the meantime.

The two walked down the stairs to the entrance hall and almost bumped into Professor Snape on their way into the Great Hall.

Instead of subtracting house points without hesitation, the Potions Master stiffened.

Ginny lowered her head automatically.

"Miss Granger," the man acknowledged with a slight nod of his head.

"Professor Snape."

Neither met each other's eyes. Snape immediately continued in the direction of the dungeons and the two girls went into the Great Hall, Hermione not noticing the odd look thrown at her by Ginny.

It had been this way since September. Snape was still his old vindictive self, especially towards Harry and Ron, but strangely silent when it came to 'Miss Granger.' He no longer came to inspect her work during Potions, or criticised her for being able to answer every questions asked.

Hermione wondered if some of her words had gotten through to him after his so-called apology. Something certainly seemed to have struck him, but it was disappointing that he now more or less ignored her.

She took her seat at the table, offering a smile to her friends already assembled. As she began to ladle out some soup, Harry asked the question she had been dreading for months.

"What are you doing for Christmas, Hermione?"

"Er-"

"I reckon Mum will let you and Harry come back to the Burrow with Ginny and me," Ron told her, buttering a roll.

Hermione would have been amused at the happiness on Ginny's face for a split second, if she hadn't had been more preoccupied.

She gave them a regretful look. "I'd love to, Ron, but I promised my parents I'd go home this Christmas."

She could have hugged Ron for not making a big deal of his disappointment. It was a lot easier that way. Athena knew she'd rather be at the Burrow than at home this Christmas.

-

However, it seemed the next day that perhaps the others wouldn't get to go there either. Ron came in to breakfast looking irritated with a letter in his hand. He sat down and handed it over to his sister. Ginny read some and then scowled.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

"Mum and Dad want to go out to Egypt to see Bill this year. We have to stay here," she told her, passing over the letter. Hermione scanned through it.

"Are you sure?"

"What d'you mean? Of course we have to stay here. Where else would we go? Fred and George's?" The others laughed. Entering the twins' new home was akin to walking into a lion's den. Fear of being Enlarged by your toothpaste or turned blue by any food you accepted was always at the back of your mind.

Hermione shook her head and pointed to the closing paragraph of the letter. "You mustn't have read this. It says they're coming up in the first week of December to talk about 'arrangements'."

Ginny looked mystified. "Think they want us to go to Egypt?" she asked her brother. Harry instantly looked gloomy. Hermione didn't blame him. The prospect of either spending Christmas alone or returning to the Dursleys' wasn't exactly cheering.

Ron shook his head. "Can't be. Besides, I don't really want to spend Christmas there…and we can't abandon Harry. We'll just have to wait and see."

-

True to their word, on the third of December, Professor McGonagall came to find Ginny and Ron. She also told Harry to come along.

"There's someone who wants to talk to you," she told him. It only became clear just whom that was when Harry was ushered into Dumbledore's office, the two redheads following.

Remus Lupin turned from the fire to smile at them, the increasingly apparent flecks of grey in his hair caught by the firelight. Ginny immediately went to hug their long missed friend, and then as an afterthought, guiltily greeted her parents warmly.

Once they'd discussed all their trivial news with each other, Ron turned to his dad.

"So what's this about 'arrangements', then?"

Arthur Weasley shifted in his seat. "Well, our plans for Egypt, as you know, are set. You can come with us," – at this, Ginny and Ron exchanged uneasy looks- "but only if you want to. We suspected you might not."

"Can we stay here?" Ginny asked her mother.

Molly smiled. "If you really want to, dear, but we have an option you may prefer." She looked to Lupin. "Remus?"

Remus stepped away from the fire where he'd been talking to Harry.

"For the last few months, I've been staying in Grimmauld Place by myself. I realised that over Christmas, I'd rather not be alone and invited your parents and you, of course to stay over the holidays. But since they are going to see your brother, I thought that perhaps you might want to come anyway. And Hermione too, obviously."

Ron grinned. "That would be great."

Ginny nodded, smiling. "I'd love to go, but Hermione's going home this year, so I doubt she'll be able to come."

Remus turned to Harry. "How about you?"

"Hmm," Harry answered. "Let me consider my options. Spend Christmas alone while Ron and Ginny have a great time, attempt to look grateful for the Dursleys' present of a sock, or actually have a great Christmas myself. However will I choose?"

"Well," said Remus. "It is really up to you, you know, whether anyone stays there."

Harry looked confused. "What?"

Remus fished a rather battered looking brown envelope from his pocket. "I'm not supposed to give this to you until you leave Hogwarts, but I don't see how it matters anymore."

Curious, Harry took the envelope and slipped his finger underneath the seal, tearing it open. He opened up the letter inside and began to read, his brow creasing more with every word. When he finally finished, he looked disbelievingly at Lupin.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" he asked.

Remus nodded with a smile.

"What is it?" asked Ginny, but Harry had sunk down into a chair, re-reading the letter. She looked to Remus, her eyes questioning.

"The letter Harry is reading is one that Sirius wrote and gave to me for safe-keeping before…" He broke off. He'd never quite got over the death of his best friend, though it had been well masked in his support for others. "He told me plainly that he didn't want any of his relatives getting their hands on Grimmauld Place should anything happen to him. None of his blood relatives, anyway. He seemed quite insistent it went to someone much closer to his heart than that."

Ginny's eyes widened. "You mean…he gave Grimmauld Place to…to Harry?"

The fact seemed to have hit Harry at last. "I have a home," he said quietly. "My own house." He shook his head and continued to stare at the letter.

Then he looked up, and realised that the Headmaster was also in the room, by the darkened window. He nodded to Harry, a twinkle in his eye.

Harry looked to everyone in the room. "You're all welcome," he said with a smile, before Molly Weasley could contain herself no longer and enveloped him in a warm hug.

-

On the other side of the castle, as she ticked off her gift list, Hermione didn't feel the joy that one of her best friends was feeling. Instead, she felt the growing feeling of gloom, as her date for going home loomed closer.

"If only..." she left the sentence hanging unfinished in the silent room as a heavy sigh escaped her lips. The only person she could envision understanding her guilt and the reluctance she felt at returning home to spend the cheerful holiday surrounded by those who loved her, was someone she couldn't reach out to. Not for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger felt as though she was in a world where everyone had someone. Everyone, but her.


	23. Conflict

**A/N: **Thanks for the great reviews and I'm sorry about the wait between chapters, so this one is a little longer than usual. I'm doing my best to update whenever possible but I'm in the middle of exams right now. Got a horrible week starting from Monday- 5 exams including Bio and Maths. Bleurgh. Thanks to beta **Angel**, you really are one, especially with this chapter.

This chapter is especially for **franflutewitch **who sent me a lovely review- it was musical! One of my favourite bands too. Thank you for taking the time to do that.

* * *

**23. Conflict**

Once Hermione had settled herself in by the window, she watched as Ginny, Ron and Harry joined her hefting their holiday luggage onto the rack. The train suddenly jerked to life and she could hear the whirring of the engines as they started up. Silently, Hermione gazed out of the window at the station and the towers of Hogwarts in the distance, illuminated by the light rays of the winter sun. The other three waved enthusiastically at Hagrid, who returned the gesture with one of his giant hands and a bearded grin. Hermione could only offer him a small smile. He simply served as a reminder that this was the last time she would pull out of this station with the intention of returning. The knowledge was a little too close for comfort and she sank back into her seat, blocking the thought from her already crowded mind.

Ginny was quick to get into the Christmas spirit, and pulled a box of Chocolate Frogs from her bag, offering it around. "Is Lupin going to be at the station?" she asked Harry as he took one of the lively sweets. He shook his head.

"We're supposed to go the fireplace at the end of the station. He's had Grimmauld Place connected to the Floo Network for us. Much quicker than walking I suppose. Plus, it'll be easier for us to get about during the holidays."

"Is he going to be there all the time?" asked Ron.

"No, he said he's going to visit some friend of his for a couple of days but he'll be around for Christmas and New Years."

Ginny's face suddenly lit up. "We could have a New Years' Party."

Harry laughed. "A party? At Grimmauld Place? Ginny, you know how depressing that place is. Besides, Mrs. Black would throw a fit."

The redhead looked at him carefully. "It's not a problem if you don't want to have one, it's just...Harry…I understand that you still see it as the 'Black' home, but…I don't think Sirius would have left it to you if he thought you would leave it as it always was."

"What am I supposed to do with it, then?"

Ginny began to smile. "Ever heard of re-decorating, Harry? It'll be fun." Ron groaned and began to shake his head frantically at Harry. His sister glared at him. "Stop it, Ron. You know, just for that, you can be the one to clean out Kreacher's old den. It's probably been left as it is since he was given clothes."

Her brother grimaced and mumbled something about 'not volunteering'.

"Harry can choose colours for the rooms…I can sort out the furniture…Hermione can-oh," she paused, looking apologetically at the brunette beside her. "Sorry, I forgot you were going to your parents' this year."

Hermione shrugged. "That's okay. Maybe I can get in on your little project at Easter." Ron looked horrified. She shot him a look. "I know for a fact your mum found something that looked like Acromantula eggs in the pantry two years ago."

Ginny continued in the same vein for another hour until both Harry and Ron begged her to stop, admitting defeat.

When they pulled into Kings Cross, Hermione lugged down her holdall and Crookshanks's carrier, Ginny, Harry and Ron following suit and stepping off the train behind her. They quickly located the fireplace at the very end of the station.

Hermione smiled at her friends. "See you soon?" she said, shifting the weight of her bag to make it more comfortable.

Ginny came forward to give an awkward hug- the cat carrier and the bag rather got in the way. "_Try _to come a few days before we go back to school?"

"I'll see if I can, but I wouldn't get your hopes up," answered Hermione honestly. "I haven't spent the holidays with Mum and Dad for a while. I doubt I'll be able to get away."

Ron approached her now, and she was glad to see any stiffness between them disappeared as he hugged her. "Have a good Christmas," he instructed, before he gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek.

When Harry came towards her, she gave him a small grin. "Ginny's right, you know." He raised an eyebrow in question. "It _is _your home now. You should get to do whatever the hell you like with it. Just…" she trailed off.

"What?" Harry prompted.

"Please leave the library alone?" she requested, feeling sheepish.

Harry laughed before enveloping her with a hug. "Don't work too hard," he warned. "I'll know if you do." Hermione watched as her three friends gathered their belongings and disappeared into the throng of students and parents congregating on the platform. Fighting the temptation to go haring after them, she walked away and calmly stepped through the barrier. It was time to go home.

-

The journey home began with the customary hug as she emerged from the barrier and into the main station. Her dad had been awaiting her and gladly took her bag and carried it to the car for her. The drive was as she expected; her father turned on the radio- an oldies station, and she stared out of the window at passing cars and fields as he asked her the usual questions about school, while Crookshanks hissed from the backseat. In fact, the normality unnerved her a little. For the past few months she had been preparing to suffer through a terrible holiday, which inevitably started with the journey home. Hermione began to hope it wouldn't be as awful as she'd thought.

As they pulled into the driveway, Hermione gazed up at her house. It was nothing special, just a regular two-storey, with an extended conservatory and neat flowerbeds beneath the windows.

Hermione opened the door and went round to help her father with her bag and Crookshanks, Joseph Granger shook his head with a smile. "Go right in," he told her. "Your mother's waiting for you." Hermione missed the wince on her father's face as he pulled out the cat carrier. A paw shot out and swiped at his hand. She made her way up the path and opened the front door.

"Mum?" She took off the long cloak she'd been wearing from the station, due to the cold wind outside**,** and draped it over the banister. The door at the end of the hall that led to the kitchen opened. Margaret Granger came out with a smile, untying the apron from around her waist.

"Hello, dear." She gave her daughter a hug. "Have a good trip?"

"Yes, it was fine."

Her mother pulled the cloak from the banister. "You didn't wear the coat we bought last summer?"

Hermione shook her head. "I didn't want to carry too much and it made sense to bring this since I was wearing it from Hogwarts."

"Hmmm," Margaret began to fold it up. "That's a shame, dear. We'll have to get a new one if we want to go out anywhere. It was such a lovely grey one, too."

Her daughter frowned. "I can just wear-"

"Said hello to Theresa and Jamie, Hermione?" asked her father, coming through the door and pulling off his jacket.

"No, I-

"They're in the living room," her mother told her, ushering her down the hall. "Go and say hello." Without giving Hermione a chance to collect herself, Margaret opened the door and nudged her in, leaving her by herself as she returned to the kitchen. Hermione walked in with a smile.

"I'm home." The couple sitting on the couch immediately got up and there were hugs and greetings all round. Hermione sat down with her aunt and uncle before the TV and answered their questions politely as she regarded them.

Aunt Theresa was her mother's sister. She was tall and thin like Margaret, but she wore her hair long in sleek, loose curls down her back, unlike the older woman who had a neat, short cut, to keep it out of the way. Hermione had privately always thought her aunt to be naturally prettier and wished she'd inherited her hair instead of her mother's.

Uncle Jamie was very unlike his wife and Hermione often wondered how they'd got together in the first place. While Theresa was very easy-going and had a relaxed outlook on life, her uncle was possibly one of the most straight-laced men she'd met. But though he was the more serious of the two, he was friendly and she didn't think she'd ever heard him shout or say a harsh word that was unnecessary. Jamie Warren ran his own medical practice in Cardiff, which was one of the reasons he got on so well with her parents, the dentists.

It was obvious from the moment she saw them that there was something very different from the last time she'd laid eyes on them. Hermione could see it from Uncle Jamie's tired blue eyes and weak smile, and Aunt Theresa's drawn features. Her face, usually full of colour, was pale, matching the darkness below her eyes. There was something missing. From the both of them. Hermione knew exactly what that was. She winced inwardly, as bittersweet memories surfaced now that she was face to face with her aunt and uncle. Not for the first time since receiving her mother's letter, Hermione's guilt surfaced. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she fought the instinctual urge to confess her dirty secret and put them at ease. Hermione smiled weakly before sitting across from the solemn pair of adults, feeling as though she were a five year old caught sneaking sweets before dinner. She sighed inwardly, the evening stretched ahead of them.****

**-**

"Goodnight." Hermione kissed her aunt on the cheek before she and Jamie left the dining room and went up to bed. As she heard their footsteps on the floor above, she stood up to clear the dessert bowls from the table.

"Leave those, dear. I'll clear them up before I go to bed," Said Margaret, as Hermione began to stack them up.

"I'll do them, Mum. You just go in and watch the TV."

"Hermione." She stopped at the voice of her father. "The dishes can wait until later."

Hermione looked at him closely. He was speaking in the voice that always suggested something was wrong. She recognized it as the way he talked to patients about unpleasant procedures. She put the bowls back on the table and sat down. "What is it?"

"We've been needing to have a little talk for a while now, dear," said her mother.

Hermione felt the uneasiness kick in. There was no doubt what lay behind Margaret Granger's soft voice. "Look, if this is about school-"

Her father nodded. "And it is-"

Hermione sighed. "Can't we have this discussion after Christmas?"

Joseph Granger shook his head firmly before taking a sip from his coffee. "We think it would be a good idea if we talked about it now, before we get too preoccupied with the holiday."

"But-"

"Darling, you wouldn't talk about it in your summer holiday. You said you'd rather do so now. I'm afraid we can't keep putting it off like this."

"Putting what off? Mum, every time you try to make this _point _of yours, you end up beating around the bush. What is it you want me to say?" Hermione stared at her mother, daring her to say the very thing she didn't want her to.

Margaret glanced at her husband. "Hermione," he started hesitantly. "We're very aware that Hogwarts has been an…_interesting _experience for you…and us, these last years. You've learned a lot, and obviously you're a good student, your end-of-year report last summer went so far as to say that you could have taken your final exams then, and surpassed the older students-"

"And we're very proud of that, dear." Her mother reached across the table to pat her hand. Hermione only felt numbly distracted at her comment and her eyes went back to her father who cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, that all contributes to the thoughts your mother and I have been having. Hermione**,** we've begun to worry that perhaps when you go to university you'll be a little behind your peers."

Hermione frowned, confused. "How can you say that if I can apparently pass the N.E.W.Ts easily?"

There was a shared glance between her parents that made her feel even more unsettled. "Hermione," said Margaret. "We're talking about a normal university."

"So was I… Mum, what makes you think that I don't want to go to a wizarding university rather than a Muggle one?"

"You said you were thinking about it yourself, dear, remember?" Margaret said, her tone soft and patronizing as though she was speaking to a small child.****

Hermione felt a slight twinge of irritation. "_No, _I said I might look into it."

"Don't raise your voice, dear. And did you?"

Hermione suddenly became very interested in the tablecloth. Margaret nodded triumphantly. "I knew you wouldn't. Darling, how do you expect to make a good choice if you haven't even considered which ones you might like to go to by now?"

"Have you considered that I might not care about Muggle universities?" Hermione retorted, with an edge in her voice.

Sensing an argument, Joseph broke in. "Hermione, your mother is just concerned you're not looking at the matter with an open mind."

"What?" Hermione stared at her father disbelievingly. "She's anything _but._" She looked to her mother. "This university thing is just a taste of what you want, isn't it? You've been like this since last year. What is it you want me to do, Mum?"

Margaret looked down to the table and then met her daughter's eyes firmly. "Hermione," she started carefully. "We in no way want to take away the last seven years from you, but you must realize that once you return from Hogwarts for good, you have to have something to fall back on. A proper education…new friends…you know what I mean."

Hermione began to shake her head, but determined to keep her voice level. "Mum…Dad…Hogwarts is part of something so much bigger. I can go on to university, I can get a good job, I can travel…I can do what I love. It doesn't mean I have to leave all _this_," she gestured with one of her hands to the room around her, "behind."

Margaret looked to her husband and threw up her hands before getting up and starting to clear the table. "This is _exactly_ what I was talking about, Joseph. She doesn't see here as her home anymore."

"What? Of course I do!" Hermione interjected; she was annoyed that they were acting as though she weren't in the room. Disbelief crossed her face as the cruel reality of her parents' train of thought came into focus. "Just because I want to do something other then what you want, doesn't mean that this isn't my home anymore."

Her mother turned to look at her. "Hermione, we're telling you what you need to hear. We continued letting you go to that school because you still wanted to come back. You wanted to return to a normal world. And now, because of that place," she added accusingly, "you are wrongly convinced that you don't."

Hermione stood up in shock, her mother had taken her aback. She had always seemed so supportive of her magical education, always accepted that it was part of who she was. Mostly, she was just hurt at her mother's assumption. "Mum, when have I ever been 'normal'? What happened to being glad I was different? I've always made good decisions, you know that- what makes you doubt me now?"

"Hermione! Lower your voice!" It was her father this time.

"Hermione, we do appreciate what you'd _like_ to do, but we're disappointed that you can't see the bigger picture here. We've been very lenient in the last seven years, God knows why, but now it appears we shouldn't have been. We may not know much about magic, dear, but we do know what's good for you."

Hermione sighed. "You know what I want to do," she said shortly. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight." Tears swelled in her eyes, threatening to fall as she fled the dining room. Her heart ached as what remained of her world slowly cracked, shattering behind her as she sought the last refuge open to her.


	24. Four Walls

**A/N: **I've just been re-reading the reviews for the last chapter, which are an especially nice bunch, so thanks for making me grin manically. Again, sorry about the wait, but my exams are almost over. Hope the longer-than-usual chapter makes up for it. Just got Physics and pre-war British History to get through. Also noticed a few new people commenting. If there's any other lurkers out there, please drop me a line or two, it's greatly appreciated.

Thanks to **Angel **for beta-ing**. **

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**24. Four Walls**

"Joseph?" Margaret called from the dining room. "There's another dish of stuffing by the fridge. Would you bring it in?"

Joseph Granger emerged from the kitchen, a large turkey dish was balanced on one arm and the opposite holding tightly to a bowl of precariously settled stuffing balls.

Hermione took the bowl from her father, glad of something to do. She made some room on the table by moving the gravy boat as her parents sat down at the heavily laden table. Her parents might be dental enthusiasts, but Christmas was the one time they allowed themselves to indulge and forget the dangers of tooth decay for once.

If you hadn't been present at the argument that had taken place a few nights ago, there was a good chance you would never know it had taken place. Her parents seemed very keen to hold to that illusion, Hermione noted. The morning after, she'd walked into the kitchen to the smell of a cooked breakfast and the cheery smile of her mother, turning bacon in the frying pan. Unwilling to pretend nothing had happened, she had given short answers to anything she was asked and coldly accepted her breakfast plate, choosing only to eat what was necessary.

Margaret Granger quickly ceased the behaviour by telling her she was only adding to the unhappy vibes coming from her aunt and uncle's direction. Hermione bit her tongue in order not to start another argument when she was ordered to stop acting like a 'petulant child'.

So, she took up the façade and forced herself to participate cheerily in the usual activities of the season; choosing a tree, shopping for presents, wrapping her purchases and posting cards to the neighbours. In truth, she longed for the festivities to end so she could get back to Hogwarts and block the unhappy thoughts from her head for at least a few months. Not for the first time, work was an escape.

After a few minutes, the family arranged around the table began to tuck in, but Hermione's aunt and uncle less enthusiastically so. She looked over to Jamie, who speared a piece of lettuce from his prawn cocktail with his fork and observed it solemnly before catching her eye and giving her a vague smile. It didn't reach his eyes; the falsity of it was plain, and she felt no real need to return it.

Crackers were pulled, jokes told and paper hats of various colours donned, but the conversation around the table soon drained into silence, the only sounds being the clinks of cutlery and the occasional, quickly muffled sniff from Aunt Theresa. Halfway into the main course, Hermione saw her parents glance at each other. Margaret suddenly stood up.

"I'll get another bottle of wine, dear," she told her husband.

Joseph, taking a helpless look at the other couple, jumped up quickly too. "I expect Hermione would like a glass this time too. I'll help you." Without waiting for an answer, he followed his wife into the kitchen.

Not feeling particularly hungry, Hermione began to chop her remaining potatoes into neat, bite-sized pieces. She looked across the table to see her relatives paying the same listless attention to their plates and began to feel a little awkward. She hated being part of uncomfortable silences. To attempt some conversation, she reached across the table to pick up one of the dishes.

"Would you like another parsnip?" she said, while taking one for herself, half-expecting her aunt to politely decline. Which would have been far easier to cope with.

Aunt Theresa promptly burst into tears. They weren't the kind easily pushed aside by a handkerchief and a sniff. They were the awful kind; pouring down her cheeks, accompanied by shaking shoulders and loud, un-subsiding sobs. Hermione, frozen, still gripping to the proffered plate, felt helpless. She wasn't entirely sure how to deal with such outward signs of inner pain, and she didn't even know what had brought it on in the first place. All she knew is that she had provoked it, in some small, accidental way.

Margaret Granger hurried out of the kitchen to her sister. "Whatever's the matter?" she asked, putting a comforting arm around her and looking questioningly to her only daughter. Hermione didn't move.

"I just…I asked her if she wanted some more vegetables…I…" Hermione trailed off weakly.

Theresa sniffled noisily into the tissue pulled quickly from her sister's sleeve. "She…she always hated parsnips…she said they were worse than sprouts…I'd always get her to try one at Christmas, but she never…she never…" Theresa's words were swallowed in another deluge of tears.

Margaret looked accusingly at her daughter. "Hermione, really. Couldn't you be a little more sensitive?"

_Sensitive? _Hermione's inner voice screamed at her mother. _Sensitive? I'll give you sensitive!_

But her mouth didn't move and neither did her body. Her father, mother and Uncle Jamie had seemingly forgotten about her, all crowded around Theresa, attempting to assuage her tears. She was left in her seat, still holding the plate. Quietly, she got to her feet.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, unheard. Then she left the room.

-

_Werewolves are distinguishable in several small ways, _Hermione wrote, her quill scratching against the parchment, before dropping it with a heavy sigh upon the desk. Her usual distraction tactic wasn't working. What was she to turn to if revision was no longer a refuge? Quidditch? That usually worked for Harry and Ron.

She nearly laughed. The only class Hermione hadn't achieved near perfection in was Flying. Madam Hooch still looked apprehensive every time she came near a broom closet. Not that she blamed her. Pairing Hermione Granger with a broomstick was akin to telling Hagrid that he had free range of Hogwarts and to raise a new breed of Acromantulas. It spelled disaster.

Drumming her fingers against the desk, Hermione searched for something that could occupy her mind at least for a few days. Something that would truly distract her, something she could prepare for, something that she might even look forward to. Then it came to her.

Many sixth years, upon their return home from school, decided to gain an Apparition license. It was an extra freedom, along with their newly legal use of magic outside school, and it guaranteed instant transport. With everything that had gone on in her sixth year, Hermione didn't actually feel like she had the energy to take the test.

It seemed simple enough. You contacted the appropriate department at the Ministry and secured a day for training. You were asked to do a little reading up on the basics, if possible, but it wasn't really necessary. On the day, you would go to the Test Centre, learn exactly how to do it, do some simple exercises, followed by the actual test at the end of the day.

That was it, she thought. Over the remaining holiday, she would do as much reading on it as possible, and then, on her return to school, she would ask Professor McGonagall if she could possibly go during a weekend and get her license. With that in mind, Hermione put away her school stuff neatly, and began to get dressed for bed. The issue at Christmas dinner was conveniently filed away for later examination.

-

"…So I explained to the poor dear that the gum treatment was absolutely essential, but did she listen?"

"Oh, she didn't insist on wearing those terribly old false teeth, did she?"

"What do you think?

"I've got her back in the chair on the sixth, anyway. Gave her husband a ring. Turns out he's been nagging her since November to get them sorted, but she won't listen to him either."

Margaret Granger laughed. "Mrs. Phillips has been ignoring your advice since we opened here, Joe. But she still comes for the free advice."

"Also leaves with a free toothbrush. And I don't expect that to change anytime soon."

There was silence for a few minutes. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"She was in the back garden. Had one of her school books with her."

The "oh," from Margaret Granger had more meaningful undertones. "Has she spoken to you about school?"

"Did you honestly expect her to?"

"Well, I expected her to act more maturely. I admit, the way we went about it wasn't fantastic, but how else were we supposed to get through to her?"

"I still think she should be able to finish the rest of the year in peace. After that, we can make plans about her future."

"We should be talking about it now."

"What's so wrong about letting her enjoy the next few months?"

"Because she's living in a dream world, Joseph. I admit that I was a little enchanted with the whole idea at first, but that was before I learnt about some of the things that happen there."

"Like what?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Joseph. That letter she left here after her second year. The one I found behind her desk when I was cleaning. From that redheaded boy. Going on about three-headed dogs and giant spiders."

"Margaret…you have to accept that these kinds of things are regarded a little differently in their world-"

"Their world? Joseph- these _people_ don't understand the concept of electricity, never mind have it. Our daughter sleeps in a _tower_. She does her homework with a _quill._ Her best friend, or boyfriend, heaven knows she'll never tell me, has a _flying car. _They have this insane postal system. Owls, for crying out loud. Half of them have never seen a stamp in their-"

"I get your point, Margaret."

"Do you? Really? Because my daughter is living in some other dimension that should have been forgotten about in the fifteenth century, as is the time loop it's stuck in, and she wants to stay there. They call us Muggles, remember, Joseph? They regard us as some alien form of people. To them, we're abnormal." She laughed bitterly.

"Margaret…" Joseph Granger's voice became soft. "You've never got so worked up over this before. Does this all boil down to the fact that you think you'll lose her?"

"Partly," came the sharp reply. "But I'm determined that Hermione _will _be staying here by this summer. If it were up to me now, I'd never have sent her to that place. She's thrown seven of the most important years of her life away. This isn't what I pictured for her, Joseph. She could be in college now, writing a thesis that will amaze her teachers, planning a trip to Europe with her friends, going to the cinema on a Saturday night…"

Her voice began to waver a little. "She's being stubborn, Joseph. She can't be happy at that school. Not anymore. I could tell it the minute she came home. And I just hoped…I hoped…I hoped that I'd finally have my normal daughter at last. We'd finally be able to put the 'witch' behind us. She'd be my daughter again."

Hermione Granger, folding towels that she'd brought in from the washing line, was standing outside on the hall landing and listening to every word. She pursed her lips slightly, blinked to clear her eyes, and then dropped the towels on the carpet, departing to her room.

-

An hour later, as Hermione's case landed on the hall carpet with a dull thud, she placed her wand back into the pocket of her robes, and adjusted her scarf.

The living room door opened. Her mother, nursing a warm cup of tea in her hands, came out to investigate the noise. She stared at her daughter expressionlessly for a moment before calling to her husband.

"Joseph? Can you come out here please?"

Her father joined her and looked from his daughter to his wife. "What's going on?" he asked slowly, taking in Hermione's school trunk, the cat basket and her outdoor attire.

"That's what I'd like to know," answered Margaret. "Hermione, what do you think you're doing?" Her voice was strangely high pitched.

"I was about to come and tell you," Hermione told her. "I thought it might be better for me to return to Hogwarts. I can't do much revision here- I need the library."

"Hermione, this is ridiculous. It's not even New Years. You agreed to stay until the end of the holidays."

"I know." Hermione's voice sounded tired, and Merlin knew, she felt it too. "I honestly think I would be much better off at school. This is my most important year." _And I don't want to stay where I'm not wanted_," she added mentally.

Her mother continued to gaze at her. Then she nodded curtly. "Do as you wish. Have a good term. Now if you excuse me, I have to get dinner on before Jamie and Theresa get back." She turned and walked back into the living room, her head held high and her back straight.

Hermione found it odd that she didn't feel this at all disconcerting or even upsetting. She looked to her father.

Joseph regarded her for a few moments before coming forward to give her a hug. It wasn't like the hugs she remembered; this one seemed less warm and meaningful. His brown eyes looked into hers seriously.

"I wish you weren't doing this," he said softly, before sighing. "How are you getting there?"

"I'll flag down the Knight Bus," Hermione said, equally quietly.

Her father nodded. "Have a safe trip," he told her. He stood still for a few moments before turning and following in his wife's path.

Hermione's gaze flickered around the hallway, with its cream patterned wallpaper and pictures of Hermione at various ages strewn about. She didn't feel any sense of sadness at leaving it again, just a familiar hollowness. She took her wand out again and charmed her trunk to be feather-light.

"Goodbye," she said, stolidly. And with that, she gripped the handle of the suitcase, made sure the cat carrier was secure under her arm, opened the front door, and stepped out into the cold air.

Hermione noticed small things as she crossed the street and turned the corner. Desperate morning frost still hung to the hedgerows in the chill wind. The brightly coloured Christmas wreaths and lantern shaped lights on people's homes. The sky that was darkening in the late winter afternoon.

She didn't notice her mother's face in an upstairs window of the house she had left behind, far from indifferent to her leaving. Perhaps she would have gone back if she had. Perhaps she wouldn't.

Once she was a couple of streets away, by a desolate playground, Hermione placed her trunk and Crookshanks on the icy ground. Taking her wand out again, she calmly raised it with her outstretched arm. Then she took a step back.

The result was instantaneous. The violently purple bus she had only ridden once or twice in her life, but always with someone else, came to a screeching standstill before her eyes.

The doors flew open. Hermione picked up her trunk and the carrier and climbed aboard, pointedly ignoring Stan Shunpike's well-learned welcome. She pushed the sickles she'd been clutching into his hand.

The pale-faced man, not much older than she, nodded to her in interest, pocketing the money. "Where to, miss?"

Hermione began to open her mouth, but suddenly, the word 'Hogwarts' wouldn't form on her tongue.

"Do you go to Diagon Alley?" she asked, hesitantly.

Stan began to laugh. "'Course we do!"

"Then I'd like to go there, please."

Stan spoke to the driver. "'Ere, Ern. We've got another 'oo wants to get to Diagon Alley."

The elderly driver smiled at Hermione. "We can drop her off with Madam Foggerty, then." He began to cough into his handkerchief as Stan turned back to Hermione.

"You'd best take a seat. Won't be long."

Hermione began to weave her way through the beds and assorted passenger luggage to the back of the bus. As the bus took off, jerking and creaking all around her, she thought, ironically, that her mind was suddenly starting to feel back at ease again. She settled on her chosen bed, holding tightly to a steady pole and Crookshanks, staring out of the window at the steady stream of lights that passed them.

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	25. Lone Soul

**A/N:** /Hides and begs for forgiveness for being such a negligent writer/ Sorry for the wait, but I hit a little writer's block and yet more PC problems. Hope that this makes up for it. Thank you for the reviews- reading them over again made me get back to work with a smile on my face. Thanks go to the alpha beta **Angel!**

Also, if you haven't already, check out potterpuppetpals . com. Thanks for the Ronnicus Explodicus tip, C.O /grins/ And congrats to JK, who's expecting her third child next year.

**Jojo- **Sorry if I irritated you, but you'll see I amended that little problem soon enough. When I have time I'll go back and reload the chapters that have a full stop. A lot of this does have to do with Hermione because a big majority of this story is about what happens to her during seventh year. SS/HG romance will be eventual but you'll have to do a 'little' waiting first I'm afraid. If you're looking for immediate proclamations from Sevvie, this isn't the story you'll find it in. Thanks for reading.

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**25. Lone Soul**

Hermione clutched desperately at the nearest pole as the bus lurched to a stop. Crookshanks gave a plaintive cry from his basket. He seemed to have given up expressing angrier complaints out of sheer fear.

"Leaky Cauldron!" announced Stan.

As Hermione gathered her belongings and rolled up the abandoned newspaper she'd been reading, an elderly witch with grey curls came shakily down the stairs clutching an overflowing shopping bag and an umbrella. She smiled weakly at Stan as she stepped off the bus. Hermione followed her.

Madame Foggerty was checking through her bag to make sure she had left nothing on the bus. Hermione looked hesitantly upwards at the sign above the inn's door, which was swaying slightly in the breeze. Remembering she was a Gryffindor, she put a hand on the doorknob and slowly pulled it open. She looked questioningly at the elderly witch, meaning to hold the door for her.

The woman shook her head with a smile. "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm staying down the street."

"Oh. Well, goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, dear."

She returned the smile before stepping into the pub and closing the door behind her. The low buzz of chatter and the warm glow of many lamps filled her senses. The many patrons of the friendly tavern were scattered about; some perched on barstools talking animatedly to a smiling barmaid, others huddled around tables sipping at various drinks and a group of raucous men playing darts in the corner. A cheer erupted as one scored a bulls-eye, grinning triumphantly at his companions. Nobody seemed to notice the quiet girl clutching a heavy bag and a cat carrier. Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

"Lookin' for a room, miss?"

Hermione whirled around, only to find a girl just a little older than her, standing behind her, cleaning a glass with a white cloth.

"Yes…I…"

"I'll find Tom for you then," the girl answered, setting the glass on the bar and walking into the back room. Shortly after, the small, round-shouldered man emerged, a toothless grin upon his face when he saw her. He looked her up and down for a minute before saying, "Miss Granger, isn't it? Friend of Harry Potter's?"

Hermione nodded. "How did you-?"

"You were in the Prophet a fair bit before the summer, after that nasty business with You-Know-Who."

"Oh, right." Hermione forced herself to smile. That wasn't something she particularly wanted to be reminded of right now.

"You were wanting a room?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'll be giving you Room Eleven, then. Would you like something to eat before I take you up?"

She shook her head. "I ate a little while ago. I'm fine. I'd just like to get some sleep."

The old innkeeper nodded. "Follow me, then." He set off towards the stairs. "Watch the roof- it's a little low for some. Wouldn't want you to bang your head now, would we?"

It was a short journey to Room 11. Ensuring warmth, and that she had plenty of light, Tom bowed himself out of the room, wishing her a good night's sleep, leaving Hermione to thankfully sit down on the creaky old four-poster, a liberated Crookshanks prowling about the room suspiciously.

Alone now, the brunette wrapped her arms around herself, resting her chin on her knees and stared at the bland wallpaper before her. Eventually, her eyes drifted to the window and she gazed out into the unresponsive dark. Her sigh went unheard by everybody except herself and the feline at her side.

-

Harry bit the head off a Chocolate Frog and munched thoughtfully, staring into the flames that flickered within the fireplace. He was sprawled across the large rug in the spacious living room, which was littered with shiny wrappers from various edible Christmas gifts.

Grimmauld Place still didn't exactly make him feel at home, but as it gradually changed around him, Harry began to accept that it actually belonged to him. It was _his. _The appeal he should have always felt at 'going home for Christmas' was starting to make sense to him now.

Harry stretched and sat up as he heard footsteps on the stairs. The door to the room soon opened and Ginny padded in, clad in a long red dressing gown and slippers. She smiled and took a seat on the rug, cross-legged.

"Feels weird with just you, me and Ron here," she commented, helping herself to a Fizzing Whizbee.

"Well, they'll all be back by New Years," Harry said. "And maybe Hermione will drop in soon too."

"I sent her an owl before," Ginny informed him. "No reply yet, but the weather's getting up- Pig takes ages when it's raining."

Harry nodded. "Where's Ron?"

"In his room. He's trying to get that picture off the wall. You know, the one of the landscape and that woman in the crinoline who sings at all hours of the night and wakes him up. Looks like another Permanent Sticking Charm."

Harry grinned. "I guess I should do some things around this place before we go back to school."

"We'll help," promised the redhead. "And no pink walls, I promise."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Ginny spoke. "Does it feel strange?"

Harry frowned. "Does what feel strange?"

"You know," Ginny gestured to the room. "All of this. That it's yours. One minute you're staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, and the next you're told you have your own home to celebrate it in."

Harry looked at her, considering. "Honestly? I don't know. It hasn't…quite sunk in yet. I keep remembering it being Sirius's." He smiled. "He loved that Christmas we all spent here…for a while, anyway."

Ginny nodded. "A little too much…I couldn't get that Hippogriff carol out of my head for weeks."

Harry laughed as he watched the flames jumping in the fireplace before him. He turned to smile at the redhead and was strangely startled to see her eyes still trained on him. She returned his smile, the skin at the corner of her eyes crinkling slightly as she did so. When neither looked away, Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So…er…talked to Dean lately?"

Ginny looked confused at his change of conversation. "No? Should I have?"

"Aren't you going out with him?"

She shook her head, amused. "We only went out on and off last year. I stopped seeing him by the end of the summer. He never seemed to do anything else than talk about football and that player he's so obsessed with…Peckham or something. Drove me nuts. I mean, I like _Quidditch_ more than the average girl, but that Muggle game…makes no sense at all. Why would they just play with _one_ ball?"

Harry shrugged. "Could ask Dean," he suggested.

Ginny grimaced. "And get another lecture about scoring techniques? No, thanks."

They were both grinning at each other again.

"So…" (Harry was beginning to hate the word now.) "…Who are you going out with now?" he asked, in a would-be casual tone, reaching for another sweet.

"No-one."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"No reason. I guess I'm just surprised that, well…no-one?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe I don't seem interesting anymore." She pushed back a lock of wayward hair. It caught the light as she did so and appeared to be a more intense shade of red in the glow of the fire. Unconsciously, she'd shifted a bit closer to him.

Harry shook his head. "Rubbish." She raised her eyebrows in question. "Well… you're-"

The door flying open disturbed them. Ron stomped in, a large ball of screwed up coloured paper in his hands. With a victorious grin on his face, he threw it into the fire. The paper fizzled and crackled loudly and began to break apart under the heat. Ron dusted his hands off before sinking into an armchair, looking tired. He suddenly realised that his sister and best friend were staring at him from the floor, obviously wanting an explanation.

He looked at them triumphantly. "Managed to get that awful landscape off the wall."

Ginny had a hand over her mouth as she stared between her brother and the fire. "You…that poor woman! How could you?"

Ron was puzzled. "What- Oh, you mean Prunella? She fled to the dining room when I made it clear where the painting- and her if she wasn't careful- was heading. I just couldn't take one more minute of 'Morning Has Broken…'"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Bit extreme, mate," commented Harry.

Ron shrugged. "So what have you two been up to?"

"Nothing," two voices responded at once, automatically.

-

Dumbledore sat at his desk, reading a few belated Christmas Cards. Fawkes perched on the end, nibbling on the remains of a mince pie. There was an unexpected rapping on the window, and Dumbledore smiled pleasantly when he saw a familiar owl struggling to keep afloat in the battering rain outside. He rose from his seat and went to let the owl –which could now settle for a drowned rat- in. The short-eared owl flew in gratefully and settled by Fawkes, shaking its feathers to get dry. The phoenix edged away from the wet bird.

Once dry, the owl held out its foot and Dumbledore removed the paper tied to it. He read the contents before nodding to himself and using the back of the parchment to write his own note to the sender.

_Tom,_

_This was not entirely unanticipated news. Thank you for informing me,_

_Albus._

He paused when handing the rolled up note to the owl, which looked at him pleadingly. He smiled at the bird.

"Why don't you stay here until the rain stops?"

The owl visibly relaxed.

"Ah, before I forget." Dumbledore got up again and went to the fireplace. Taking down a small dish, he threw a handful of powder into the fire that was blazing there. As green flames shot up, licking the bricks, the Headmaster crouched down onto the hearthrug.

"Severus!"

A few moments later, Severus's head materialised in the fire. His hair was wet and roughly combed, having just stepped out of the shower."Yes?" he said slowly, weary of what was coming next. It never surprised him that the headmaster would come calling during the most inconvenient of times. Unconsciously, he narrowed his eyes at the wizened wizard. _His eyes are twinkling more then usual, that's not a good sign._

"I just received an interesting letter. I need a favour…"

* * *

Not being a big football fan myself, (and a Liverpool one, not a ManU fan when I am), I have no idea when 'Peckham' (also not a fan) began professional football, so I may be taking liberties with the time frame.


End file.
